Poetry

In fending off, the questions, 
after mutilation, 
a maverick was asking, 
would you go beyond the species? 
 
Escape was not an 
abstract. It was a concrete evidence 
against the bleed and hurt. 
Invocation was becoming absolute necessity. 
 
The poetry of death has 
many stanzas. The tribe wants 
it share, but I will write 
about the beauty of dying sun. 
 
Silence was a true poem. 
You speak some inaudible words.