March 22, 2011
Little flakes of ash
Fall down about me.
Their color is off,
And they stink of burnt flesh.

The blast occurred
Not far from here,
I think.

I wonder who’s been hurt,
Who’s dead,
And who will forever carry
Wounds from this explosion?

The blast occurred
Nearby, I think.

The sky is black,
This hot snow falls down
And fills every crack,
Every crevice.

Acid rain
Is falling upon me,
I know.

My hand is covered in droplets,
Droplets of blood.
But, of course,
That makes perfect sense.

The blast occurred right here,
I know,
As I look down at my smoldering heart.

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sarah98 said...
May 18, 2013 at 5:37 pm
oh this is pretty. would you check out some of my stuff?? I have a poem called "with or without" that this reminds me of.
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