City cuts the stars from the sky, the stars
from our lives. City lets you believe. Water warms
the tummy, fertilizes the seed. Water starves the city,
starves our debauchery. City bears the bloom;
angry, cold, burgundy petals and virulent eyes.
City walks upon the water before a multitude of
fearless
confusion.
City scorches willow trees and brambles. City stares
into disease. Winter fears and summer etches
mortality into the glass swing sets where we
sacrificed morality to sin. Summer carelessly leaps from
stone to stone across the creek, aborts the fetus in its womb,
carrying on without remorse. City steals the
living, hides the dead.
City cuts the stars from its flesh. Summer drips from the
wound onto the floor and water heals.
