poetry

thrust into the rainbow’s fable

we didn’t agree to this
we were merely born here
thrust into the rainbow’s fable
pushed from the red-fibrous wombs
where we’d slumbered
spat out, squint-eyed and screaming
into the spinning-steel machinery
white wolves watch the grumbling churn
from the swaying-grass periphery
tasting the smell of our mortality
the blood of our avarice, our hauntings
carried on August whispers
the gray-ash bodies of the believers
exhaled from phallic steam pipes
the dust of promises
twisting in rough-sand cyclones
until finally, stilled

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Eric

I've come to write.

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