Saturday, April 18, 2020


Not To Be Found

many-colored towers,
open to the rain and sky,
the blast-scarred field,
mantled by flower-studded runners.

we were gone.
unwinking stars,
and this ruddy world,
dreamed we had never been.

flower stalks nodded, blooms
moving against the breeze;
ripe seeds glinted
from freshly turned earth.

a few millennia,
an augenblick,
forest of pink, crimson, purple,
not a drop of DNA.

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