An angry arm rises skyward; slamming down with cold intention; wood and metal are no match for this iron fist.The heart has been ripped from this house; the soul, having already escaped, bears witness, quivering at the proceeding destruction, like a feeble animal in the shadow of a looming aggressor.
What remains are strewn across a razed field; spilling onto a grotty sidewalk beyond the chain-linked perimetre. A rusty letterbox stands erect like a tombstone out front - a somber guard inscribed with the number 9, who has turned a blind eye.
© Strauss 2011
What remains are strewn across a razed field; spilling onto a grotty sidewalk beyond the chain-linked perimetre. A rusty letterbox stands erect like a tombstone out front - a somber guard inscribed with the number 9, who has turned a blind eye.
© Strauss 2011
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