To the soundtrack of silver gulls

by November 20, 2023 0 comments

Post storm, pre-apocalypse
knees scraped in scarlet,
we collapsed in the aftermath
finding “home” ‘mid the dirt
the debris and the carnage

with stars miming scars
and barely a moon
to console us.

Side lined by syncope
I took a slug
of the stuff that we brewed
from the dandelions.

Loyal to the craft
you wore your poet hat
through the muck and the mire
still piping with poetry.


It rained come the morning –
light and forgiving as

we woke to the sound track
of silver gulls.

editors note:

Who knows what night before can bring this morning after? – mh clay

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