Climatic
the air is metallic,
the taste of old blood
this is an un-dead sky
what is contained in this pulsating blitz
is that
not usually notice
- wind-smears through electric branches
- the white fire of small wings
scooped into a deeper distance
- the smell of malformed frights
shaking paralyzed rains
- magnetic minims of heat and cold
deranged by layers of madness
this in not weather
this is the way
days and nights are killed
fractions of a textured atmosphere
separate
detach
fly away
fingertips
touch the weight
of a bulging ozone
no one saw it leave
it did not move on
it moved inward as such events do
later
cats were found in other parts
alive
but forever haunted by daylight
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2019
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