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The Apron of Eden
Suddenly, blocks of rain swiftly came
like a drummer on black cocaine
striking the roof in such a peculiar way.
Next, the thunder came pounding
like God bearing down from heaven's breast
onto the neck of a stained-glassed train track.
Before long it was all gone
the blocks-the glass-the God.
The silence came next- like a dead snake under a rusty rake
(or a fading tattoo in the pan of the brain)..
tongue resting heavy on the apron of Eden.
...amidst all this brief- but wonderful mess
all I could think about was shivering birds
and how joyful the chorus frogs
and pumpkin seed must be.
Copyright ©
Anthony Biaanco
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