by Rowena Silver
Hi gorgeous!
I love your name
and your ability
to spin the moon purple
evacuating skies
while frequent flyers
munch on stale croissants
in overcrowded bistros
Our regionalism defines us.
Certainly we have drowned out
congresses of sparrow song.
Sorry
True, we dig deeply - raping caves
unblooming leaves,
to suck out seeds
and then bestow the yield
to cackling loons
But, you my love
are spewing dust
into the open wounds
of continents.
Please, let us bury dead presidents
return home to clean the larder
of our own sweet poisons
mind our fizzers and mines,
breathe.
Rowena Silver is an editor of Epicenter, A Literary Magazine. Her work has been widely published.
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