This blackened ruin
smokes and sizzles in the rain,
bleeding pools of ash.
The flames have eaten
all that fire could consume,
but the stain remains.
So the sky pours forth
to wash the field with water
where children once played.
(For Alycia Nipp.)
Posts
Selected pieces from my current project
3 years ago
This is sad. Especially since I drove past the smoking silent piles and smelled the awful smell of it wafting past our house for two days. It was like a heart breaking offering of sad remembrance.
ReplyDeleteNice poem Clint.