Some mellow graphite
tread Adam’s braze in sedentary roar.
Liars dwell on jealous appearances
in fine ego.
Children see recorded pews as delicate charred ashes,
native ravines may delve come Monday, in a repose.
Fried olives form opaquely, some sparse
river dell remains in Lebanon’s shine.
Still, lament rags and leaves a loose atlas trade.
No future ochres apply lame mention.
Some only anchor late, and come bare-chested in radiation.
© 2017 Stellular Scribe