SCOWLING GREY
How long yet with covid?
Far away the unreachable
a luminous streak
the white sleeve
of a perfect swimmer
tracing the earth with his arm
and above the playful horizon
a dark sky.
Its vapours
move back and forth
A ballet of craving locusts
before the fatal plunge
Fingertips slightly touch
but recede
before even completing
creation
They wish they’d made Man
they wish the universe were theirs
They cower and curl
into figures of lovers
swirling with rage and passion
battering the white sheets
of an ominous world
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