Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Gloom

Some days
I feel like an actor who
stumbled into
the wrong stage-play
for there's nothing
soft or picturesque here

but in distant view,
ascending from dark mountains
with gunmetal-gray smoke
a mythical thing murky
red-hoofed, forked-tongued
out to make our towns
and nations
bleed

----


Prompt: April 19—dark