Clean

In the aftershock

On the edge of the crater

Spared by the brag

Of blistering iron

–

Desolation receives me as I am

Torn out of the clouds

From a merciful slumber

–

In the earth’s fresh wound

Old roots rot away

As I till and I reap

From the still-pulsing ground

–

I sow the new lore

Of an exile’s journey

Born in the twine

Of metal and fire