by RICHARD CRAWFORD
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Hate clouds with angels rained venom on our town, deformed mouths, death songs downloading to a crowd on a cracked paved road without crossings, drowning the dawn that died to dusk. The shape of moon swallowed sky and a distant funnel cursed over a slanted mouth, a deep crevice, and a rock mouth dead as earth. How it waited for thin souls, a black hole salivating thirst. How we looked upon it in the winds that wisped shallow breaths of earth. Now our forms of black dust began to scream our voiceless screams, across the landscape of the cursed.
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Richard Crawford is a senior student at Columbia College Chicago, majoring in Creative Writing. His poetry is included in Criminal Class Review Volume 6. Richard’s website is www.richardjohncrawford.com.
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