For the earthweal open link weekend.
Night night go away
leave bristle bushes behind
to spike sow-thistled
drying brown stalks in withering sun
groundwater glares with Glaucus eyes
no saving us from drowning
we bend beneath the weight of the storm
will we rise again?
Running running away
filling earth’s pockets with dull change
chinking over stream debris.
What magic will work
without sun to turn pewter to silver
pay our thirty pieces
open the valves and bivalves
drink up Thor’s horn and make way below
for these cloud-fallen waters?