thread by Rg Gregory
the sky is shattered its debris clutters the world's streets
where the light came from is a question charred beyond recognition
heads hang out of walls limbs unattached rigid in their will to crawl away
but there's a bird (black in the jagged sky) with a twig still stuck in its beak
is it falling or flying there's no witness with the fullness to interpret
the intolerable direction it must decide is the thread the scene hangs on
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