literature

The Killing Season

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Literature Text

The killing season
is upon us again -
our sons gone underground,
our trees become weapons
and the last bloom
of our youth
laid bare by carrion.
In town the men
all ask for cigarettes -
the nicotine on their breath
stalking new prey
as it mingles in the streets
and tries to look
indifferent.

The women wear handkerchiefs
like bandages
wrapping their heads;
and from the buildings
stream white flags
and sheets,
warning the children
there are vacancies
below the surface.
Our houses
do not recognize us -
we leave the doors open
while the windows look
disinterested
and the gardens starve.

But we shall collect wounds
this harvest -
roots trapped in soil,
dry husks in crates
and barrels by the score
to haul to market,
the slender barter
of our dreams
a final afterthought
treading on our tongues.
...
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Comments64
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Oh gosh.... There's such a feeling of emptiness and desolation here. This is. Just. It really captures a feeling and moment. It's a striking piece of work.

I like:
"our trees become weapons" because of the juxtaposition, trees are such peaceful things.

"there are vacancies
below the surface." is a truly poignant line that says so much with so little.

"Our houses
do not recognize us" for the same reasons as above.