Avalanche - Poem by Doyen Lingua
The crystal mountain
The white tombstone
The surfing hills
like a lovers touch on a virgin snow.
The slight misstep of a squirrel fires the double-barrel shotgun.
The mountain grumbles baritone
frost-bite jowls clench
fast as a camera flash-
It’s like falling into a cement truck,
becoming straight jacket.
You can’t dig out from the inside.
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