#917 - have fled

 

11.vii.22

917

3.191

have fled

looking through the bottom of an old green bottle

 

we are, all of us, survivors

 

on foot, out limb and flutter by

who knows beyond?

 

to the last breath we are

 

think of what’s been come through

birth and daylight

meals we might be

all of it a gamble

 

some warriors sprung up from the bones

they were cut down quickly

 

we are all victims of circumstance

and hunted the others down

you won’t find them

 

every art is burying

all words are last

this is just where we are