takes bishop

 

I remember -

Fair was the plastic weather,

Sun barely over manicured hills

As I stood

Deer in road

Porcelain doll

Still

 

Frozen as any photograph

Broken like a scratch-skipping phonograph

Mind blank and void and echoing white

Red-blue lights in my aching eyes

 

I tasted smoke

Began to choke

Sound too far away

To reach try as I may

 

The balance point of this purgatory bubble

Was seeing his poor hand jutting out from the rubble


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