Heather OC: Week 47 of 208

Art Walk

Let’s stroll at the damn;

Pretend the world’s not

About to tumble over the net-

Bobble down currents -

   lurching to (un) certain

Demise. Not really, though.

Democracy, dead -

for us. But everywhere?

And, sure, crispy burning

and soggy south - but

Some will carry on. Rats,

cockroaches, savvy

Rabbits.

Paint the night sky;

Cover up the shooting stars

And asteroids we’re always

Afraid will clock us.

Braze iron. Forge

flesh. Leave

Sculptures in the

dying garden:

Choking, tangled

for discovery

     later on.