woods-phosphorus

November 21, 2024

White phosphorus burning through the night
Skeleton crew on a slaver, hug the equator tight
Drone fly like metal kite
Hellfire out the sky, open your book to Revelations
Anyone hatin’, this your chance to get right

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Thought:

“You: an Achilles’ apple

Blushing sweet on a high branch

At the tip of the tallest tree.

You escaped those who would pluck your fruit.

Not that they didn’t try. No,

They could not forget you

Poised beyond their reach.”

Sappho | Fragment 105(a) tr. Anita George

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