Equinox

One hemisphere

is a coppery heat

when each carnival

syllable festers in

organoid labyrinths.

Burrows. Pops up

its polyester tents

 

like scarlet groundhogs

shedding hunters

with the seasons:

animal lungs balloon

in their pockets, emptied

of iron. How rich

 

is your soil—

your blood—

that boils its few coins

to the autumnal stutters

of clanking hearts

and gunmetal tongues.

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Published by

Jenna

Hello, fellow bundle of nerves and flesh! I'm a simple little being who's half-poet, half-scientist, and all gelatinous chaos. Sort of like an illogical marshmallow. If you'd like to learn more, please seek out the "First Impressions" page. Thank you for the visit, bundle friend.

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