marauds in from the north
tarantulating the sky with its arms
neighbors stacking children in for the winter
buckets set out
frothing red under luminous trees
I hollow a spot in my brain
to receive your words
you don't call and I fall asleep
at midnight rain fills the hole
oooo ickkkkk
ReplyDeletewhat's in the buckets?! why didn't she call? (rhetorical questions)
love the image of stacked up children - like live mummies.
Children burn pretty well if they are sufficiently dried out.
ReplyDeleteWho says its a "she"? That's just a rhetorical question too. Thanks Berta