Free Verse

Lately, in the boston
Metropolitan area, the sky has fallen
Repeatedly.
I wish I pretended to care more.
the quiet white
Albatross,
Plumage pushing in clenching silence
As the world
Descends to meet it
A skyline receding
And falling ever downward
Like the wars of attrition
Fought as a last resort
In the middle of blood filled trenches
The sight of light long forgotten
The smell of soil, humus, death
A taste of the night in the air
Even in the pall-bearer grey air
Funereal and attuned
To the sum total
Of silence.

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