Death Is a Blood Red Sunset
A red sunset kindles icicle’s
into bright dripping scalpels.
Light decamps and flares,
impressions drift.
Shadows mime shadows.
The flicker of melting flames.
A hanging man;
his silhouette flex’s,
head lolling, arms stretching
in the long reach of evening.
Death twists
flames smolder then set.
Heels keep turning.
A tree sleeps.
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