concessioni.concession2 years ago in Scraps More Like This
and then it wasn't the repurposed fires
but the transfixed regime
the woman imagining rain
in all the countries that occupy her lover's heads
(reminder: i was promised this winter)
something about the myth of the soul
carried by immigrants of an obsolete paradise
(were these visitors astronauts?
her voice goes on about mountains
her voice goes on
in this hemisphere the dispatches
beleaguered with the sharp wheat hills
the violet moons of their home
began drying up.
no satellite was capable.
there is a broken country between us