The boundary holds firm
a line of brush and cracking steel
that bats the sunshine
into your eyes and mine
savage terrain, never famished,
rises into the pendulous mists of
dawn and the cawing of
undead vultures; necks taught,
wrought hard with the
selfish endeavour to
sweep the flesh aside
pockets swell; bulbous as though
fornicating in thorny doldrums
to us, unseen
bugs tick and the sun
beckons a flat, hard heat
that does nothing but
burn and set all
ablaze; the cold, hard orange
of life through curious, sideways
glances.
#365DaysOfPoetry
