One Bloom Singing
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By AA in Poetry — 06 Jul 2025

Original

The one crawled out of ice...
The two from thickest mud...
The many from the carcasses of slain animals, sacrificed...
or murdered.

We have become like our gods.
Who have we become?
...the images of those we killed...

The one, a goat.
The twain, some frogs or eyes of Newt.
The many, a chilling indifference.

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