Dull hands
Eclipse the skin –
Suns engulfed by cold fingers.
Dust
Formed skyscrapers
Against the choking horizon
As the ocean melts into the sky.
Wails
Of hypocrisy spill
From each fracture
In the painting,
Nails claw at the canvas,
Searching
For a reality in which they live –
A reality where their hands
Did not nurture the flames – A reality
That does not exist.
Macy Schafer