our armored borough

Deep in our burning bowl,
colorless carp writhe along
river veins, concealed under
hydrangea tears.  In the
coming days, good citizens,
carved from ivory and
emerald, will be driven beneath
browning branches and into cool
corners with strawberry-butterscotch
stars swimming in their eyes.  Those
who endure shall frolic in
chrysanthemum’s shadow.

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