Dreaded blood fire, sanguine
In lust, lusting for day, lusting
For salient peace, lusting for firewood
To burn something other than coulds
Set aflame the fields of poppy
Make them ash to engulf the world's
Opiate, send us in all ravishing mad
The hat off to the man in rocking chair
Sustaining his composure while the world's
Sirens blare, on tips ends of the hairs, circles
And beds, lofty in rest, wishes for rest
Like terminal dead, left like letters in drawers
Moths eating things all, but the memories
Of the dress you wore to the funeral
Made the light shine, down came the storm.
Christopher Baird 2011 ©
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