Limbo
we are burnt inside,
full of old straw,
tar and wet ash;
passing trucks lift my hair,
wash my eyes with diesel,
trees and fields behind the stop
are fenced and grubby,
they darken,
we are lost in direction
between two nothings,
untied to our kin...
seekers of line and light,
down the way of a savage god,
the cruel autobahn.
Copyright © Leslie Philibert | Year Posted 2016
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