Death cry of a small thing

A perfect poem for a pensive day…

Jane Dougherty Writes

Sunday is the day of the hunter here. The Oracle obviously knows. I shouldn’t have tempted her.

Death cry of a small thing—Screen Shot 2018-09-23 at 16.29.23

I lick my wounds

beneath a heavy sky

shot with rain.

Though shadows fall,

rose red and peach pink,

in my heart, they are purple,

black-petaled and stained with rust.

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