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She moved like the simmering storm,

Swept in from an ocean

Which festered in its anger

Like a child whose petulance grew

Bitter berries beneath a compromised sky,

Aching shoulders, back bent twisted

Head hung like a knife blunted

Her eyes still razor sharp

Raised above the bruised horizon

Cut the rain like sorrows parting,

Loose skin caught by the whispering wind

Its map folds trapped

And blurred at the edges

Roads that once led south and west

Smudges smeared like fallen fruit beneath the boot,

Carried like carrion the black shadow wings

Swept on like Arctic winter

With nowhere to go

A desperate curse upon the land

Her eyes burned blackened by hope.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

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