Rags

Rags fly in window
Arbitrary colours on an ordinary morning
An audit, a roll call in Death’s dear land
Breath so clear on back of hand
left low
Right below
eyeline of a skyline
of a million faces as twisted as mine
Let them know
Let it go
The rags in the window
covet another colour
as calamity creeps covert, undercover
In sun beams

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