Write Brained Poetry (@WriteBrainedJR)
The Collected Poetry of Jon Richard
Poetry Archive
Short Prose Archive
Friday, June 28, 2013
Cockroach Little
The sky is falling in pieces
Big as houses,
Hard as bruises.
That happens sometimes.
When the sky falls, everyplace light
Is a busy highway,
Is a shooting range,
Is a slaughterhouse.
When the sky falls, I hide in the dark.
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