all souls
was it grafted interferenceor was it redolent curse;
all this time, scraping moss
across unguerneyed pavers
each exercise a shocker
grating petitions scour the air;
a dragging fence-gate
badly in need of repair
on either side, stand on a lean
dripping candles and wilting flowers;
suited sentinels vacuum
a freshly emptied hearse
Poetry by arquious
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Written on 2016-10-31 at 08:33
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