by John Gregory Evans
© 5/17/2020 1:58:19 AM
Rhythmic seasons arrive by way of violent crimes
from within the darkness, as we digest encounters
with black and bloody sinuous renegades, of branch and vine.
Tiny minnows and tad-poles thirst upon a solitary descent of
a complacent pain, as dragonflies carve out their stellar paths
of thirst disdained.
A mirrored silence, an environmental trepidation, why as a child,
bitter echoes that cannot trust these sacred weavings
for the night, a lunar moon and depth of darkness minus the night.
Dear earth, know not the wounds of everyman,
with transparent sheets of blood and rain, darkness sieves
upon this stingy palette of corruptive veins,
with their transparent sheets of blood and rain.