A Skirmish/In Flames

You run for the hills
and I’ll walk in the sun
where the gunfire sprays
the thick shrubbery.

We’re all dressed to kill,
armed to teeth with our will
to chatter, reset
and unwind.

Embellish the past
through a cracked looking glass.
I’ll do handstands ’til you
pay me some kind.

“Look after the kids.”
Said a boy blown to bits
as the sun set hot orange
between us.

I’m in love with the fire
that retorts from the spire
to which I worship
blindly each day.



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