flood and drought

quasi drunk

on these precious petals

plucked by tremblingĀ 

finger tips of good faith

and half willing

only to appease

our inability to change

Ā 

but they are in no measureĀ 

what mother needs

to keep her flesh

from bleeding out

and crying for us

her lost ones

who can only cling

to her withering skin

and our own false

hope

night rain

haven’t we heard enough
of this insatiable thirst
lapping at our bones
and our land
our windows and doors
it’s as if to say
‘just to remind you
we might not stop
if we choose’
but for now it’s just bluff
they will lull us to sleep
and slip away before
the light wakes
an obliterate world