Prehysteric Meteorites

It is the color of a
make believe home,
a mastodon
burdened by hope –

In its sinews I think
to the ocular drift
of a generation
that thought itself
into vegetation …

The long
tooth curled inwards;

Two and two
dozen years spent
hanging in skies
until solitary light
opens its dirty mouth …

It speaks of a color,
a warning of
brilliance just before

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