building a nest out of found parts
of a sort shunned by most while this nest
t e e t e r s on withered storm drains
where even the most violent
screams of nature are funneled
antediluvian promises curving away from sky
angry black night hard light billows prophecy
the gutteral scream of receding oxygen
fleeting memory and savage wings
still this loose grip holds—thin as sleet and venerable pages
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