Thunder And Now This

You can’t complain

when the ghosts come calling;

the rings on your fingers are a shame…

Thunder and now this!

The sky answered back blankly;

a blight of crows making soft a kiss..

Subtractions make a whole

mess of desire; the lamps are

silent but for heating the bronze bowl.

The birds hide the ground

and take turns to gripe;

a scuttle and a screech, before no sound

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