Smithereens Press Chapbooks SP9 - 'Kodalith' by David Lloyd | Page 12

Drywash
Dead wind off the fang-range.
Strange weather, strange witness
In the teeth of it, bit and
Grit in the fantail. Did you
Think we would leave and not leave
Bone in the downdrift?
Degrading, silting, grit angel
Sweeping the wash with your wing

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