Cargo

By Susan Austin

Wind

hurtles

down the fall line     of the roof

lightning

red     across a captivated

sky

It’s the charged

air

that disturbs me

how the desk creaks with     my every word

leftover

baubles     of medical waste

the vulture

that tipped     the morning

sky

a shrike      with a siskin as cargo

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Categories: Issue 6, Poetry | Leave a comment

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