Estrangement comes
after the fight
The dust settles
and what remains,
at first sight,
are seared patches of field,
black stubble
where fire has cleansed
the weeds and seeds alike.
The earth is turned, churned,
but the fields are no longer burnt,
medication taking the place,
of earlier raw element.
The furrows are peaceful,
but a grumbled “alright”
hardly ever means
that all
is all right.
shiptorch 