Omer 27 - bones and all

loping, sloping thoughts slipping down as molasses,

reaching for salvation from fussy cultivar

easily swayed by circumstance.

where the tundra is sparse,

this place lies barren from monoculture,

hubris; over-tilled, over-done, over-worked.

no salt necessary, no fire required:

the soil is exhausted,

lying comatose in neglect.

all isn’t lost

but now, as everything lies in ash,

all that is left is to set yourself on fire.

———

Omer 26 — Murex < previous || next > Omer 28 — Vibrato

the start: Omer 1 — Pomegranate