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bent stalks II (11/17/2019)

skin split and spilt 
original sin as the flowers wilt 
and innocence was just a season
lost to time 
molted and castaway on a raft 
with riffraff and 
single serving friends 
(those sweet summer children)

and what was I 
but to bear the bolts of anchorage
bereft of the warmer tides that came before: 
a rusting high water line, to be sure. 

bracing, of soul and spirit-pillars 
bent from upright, but not by the knee
not yet 

time is not mine to be made 
to submit

bent poppies ruin everything

◄ bent stalks I (11/16/2019)

L'appel du vide (11/29/2019) ►

Comments

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Graham Sherwood

Mon 18th Nov 2019 14:34

Some lovely words and sentiments in this piece Zach. Really impressed with this.

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