Rising by Seth Leamer
Ascendent by Jacob Kawecki
How terrible the sight of two red winged
Star gods flying from the sea;
Breaking asunder the ocean surface,
Blood drenched bodies dripping ruby.
Awaken once more to watch the sky
Ripped in half in crimson eye,
While greyest iris obscures both
Sunset glowing and girdle bruised
A purple hue.
Bemusing behemoths break man’s barricades.
Gods are not stopped by simple walls,
Brass bullets, weeps and wails,
Or the shaky pause
Where silence is only perforated by
Nor do they wait for the second round
Of gunfire, the pellet-shell tanks
And mosquito bite missiles.
And we are wiped away like ants in a flood
With simply screams from their divine lungs.
In little townscapes,
And quiet death is all that calls.