Bathing
the civilian dead
Writhing
trees in bitter rainfall
Two
birds, dog fight planes.
Inky
cottage shoulders mist
leaking
smoke and steam.
It
burns within, it is lived in.
In
the shrieking canopy
gunshots
– multiple rounds.
Stillness
then an urgent gust,
a
fresh wave of camphor water
rainfall
bitter in trees writhing.
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