®

Today's poem is by John Fry

[now that we're lost at last]
       

whispers someone or thing
inside:         fell of dark

before, resurrected, days
climb under the city of no

hills         sans serif
save for the crooked

mesquite patience
that built a Babel

skyward—         thunder drums
heaven's sheet metal veil

asunder        lightning's pentecostal
&tongued        already our words

were furrow-flung
seeds asleep among flint

(Bible broke open)
bedrock dreamt dragon

teeth         paleolithic arrowheads
floodwater, remembering, finds



Copyright © 2018 John Fry All rights reserved
from With the Dogstar as My Witness
Orison Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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