Hard Land To Love Poem by Shane Markie
Hard Land To Love
Shambling wind skins dust
from the ground;
sunrise is a gray smear,
and sunset stains
the sky with spilled ink.
All night in the dark
sick fish wail
from a stagnant lake,
tearing the clouds.
In the black gashes
a few stars dim,
their voices growing red,
like opals sinking
in thick oil.
Tuesday, January 14, 2025
Topic(s) of this poem: fish,sick,sunset,voices
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8/29/2026 1:54:58 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
