From Remembering the Dead, a new book of poems by R. Saint Claire

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The Old Thundercloud
Comes like black dread
Chasing angels into other worlds.
Where? They never said.
Its lightning companion does his dance,
The crackled dance.
A sad display really.
The old clown a show-off-
Oh! Bring the angels back—
Scattering all, even the brave,
A black anvil and light show dance.
Till the young ones, plagued and bent
Say “No, No!"
Throw their sticky bodies on the ground
And weep stern, boisterous
Showers of amethysts.

 

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