The Choice Poem by Bob and Alex Eichen

cracked ground whispers
choking dust
sparsed with brown crab grass
and nothing to eat
or drink
carrion corax line the lines
with looks that bite
like eating
waiting
waiting
ants on the beach, in droves...
They gel and cover
Like wax on the skin.
Through the red shifting form,
One can see bone:
Ribs, spines of those who ran and ran.
All that remains.
Against the water,
Red legs reach and drown.

Beneath the clouded water.
Cold. Black. Patient.
THE LEVIATHAN.


(This poem written by Alexander Eichen)