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Noise

The country leant down, bowed
till its horns scraped the ground
and made a low lowing sound, a moan
that seeped through fields
and homes, and rich grey marshes,

pinned my ribs to my lungs
and my lungs to my spine,
pulled spearheads
out of the earth, still glinting
with wet breath.

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Comments


  • Rogue
    February 22
    Edit | Reply

    wow

    Excellent use of imagry to make your poem 'come alive' I loved this!

  • Asabouros.
    February 15

    Edit | Reply
    Pretty Pretty.

    (I'm terrible with comments so just know that you're a fantastic writer *bows to you*)