snow is lying
like dead ballerinas
takes root
in the emptiness
between eyes
villages are scattered
like black things
of used god
sky
can no longer
keep inside
silence of birds -
explodes
like cocoons
in a church
the day is over
and man-burnt-match
goes home
-
Author:
Sviatoslav Zhabotynskyi (
Offline) - Published: January 4th, 2024 23:11
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.