Home   Home

200 Days Without Rain

by Maria Kintner

Who is wondering where we’ve gone?

How dry the fields must be,

as we become nourishment for beasts,

A leftover grain or blade of grass.

Fragrant and sticky in the heat.

The sun is finally setting,

and I am nothing but flames.

You don’t even leave a shadow,

but let me consume myself.

A fistful of soot and ash,

under a moon, who keeps all your secrets.

Including me.


Author's Note: I have no idea what else to do about us.

Posted on 10/07/2020
Copyright © 2023 Maria Kintner

Return to the Previous Page

pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online
All works Copyright © 2023 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)