The pale taste
sharp burn of empty
pervades oneself
bowing at the worship steps
descended upon by a goddess
wrapped in a gown of glowing uranium
The weak are dragged out
and broken in two
their bones scatter
melted by a scoundrel sun
The warriors of rulers
unite in tandem
they demand
the pendulum swing
back to order
Somewhere, a gavel falls
on laws that wreck and divide
they hope the goddess
borrows from her softer side
that she masters quickly
that capricious ear
least they might leave this world
unscathed
Until then,
there is isolation
without comfort
and silence
to lull the terror
About the Creator
Lana Broussard
Lana Broussard writes primarily under the pen name, L.T. Garvin. She writes fiction, poetry, essays, and humor. She is the author of Confessions of a 4th Grade Athlete, Animals Galore, The Snjords, and Dancing with the Sandman.
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