by Colleen Smith Armstrong
the sky will be black ashen limbs falling at my feet torn hearts bleeding in the grass brown rabbits, green grasshoppers, black crows, red foxes all scrambling in herds of dust and blood and pain past my melting body and my disintegrating eyelashes, blowing away in the wind. it will be empty fields of scorched wheat and crushed forest, it will be violence and terror and still my selfish heart will wonder who will love me?
©Colleen Smith Armstrong