Cane stalks bow in dirty drifts
ripples lift like scaled wings flits shriek and spin, and spin shattered panes quiver as shock waves storm hidden enclaves slaves stir awake dazed turbulent skies rage, swirling cloud unveils a brittle cage light flickers fades Veneers of hope peel away onion skin slates, black sheathes dangle and drop, shatter on glassy substrate Aphid wakes
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by Paul Sinclair
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November 2020
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