Her Chicken Scratch / Poetry



The sky was ingested in red flame. And the air lost all appeal for inhale. It became weightless. It became death. Forcing everyone with lungs to cling to their oxygen masks. Their chests barely falling and rising, taking in dull, shaky breaths.

Watching as the birds fell from the sky, like smears of oil.

Written and Photo by Alecia Writes


8 thoughts on “Breath

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