The Only Thing
The only thing that can penetrate
this moldy mansion overgrown with moss
spewing toxins in the air;
a mosquito’s favorite lair.
The only thing that can flip
a shadow, frighten the right
straight eyes of the wolf spider
lying in wait for larger prey or
spineless invertebrate
slopping in a cool stream;
they do not disintegrate
while we are drinking.
The only thing that can smother
the stench of damp decay,
brush past the Indian Pipes
devoid of color,
feasting off the dead;
a clay calabash that blackens,
mourning in your hands.
The only thing that can empty
this treed penal colony
is pure unadulterated blaze
swamping in between
a latticework of limbs.
But before that tide has risen,
night descends.
© khartless 2022, All Rights Reserved
Photo write for the NaPoMo contests held by an exceptional poet that encouraged many many moons ago to keep writing: amaranthine lover aka Christina Borgoyn. Please check her poetry and her writing contests out. Happy Friday, beautiful, creative friends!
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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