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Impaled Again


A sword slices through empty space,

the air bleeding as sutures trace

 

To pierce not once but pierce again,

your breath scarlet, its stain portends

 

A breeze sharpens—all time erupts,  

seasons hemorrhage and flow corrupt

 

The wind incited—torn by pain,

truth the loser, impaled again

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2019) 

©All Rights Reserved

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Kurt Philip Behm

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