Aspiring
|
The chimney sweeps
|
Step after staggering step
|
Struggles the enfeebled son
|
Ascending the blackening spires of towers
|
Charcoal stains under his fingernails
|
Could be a claw for the flesh stretched upon it
|
Eyes gaze dead bent
|
On death bent sons
|
Brief as wind, the sons go every which way
|
With no place
|
We can finally breathe
|
|
-----------------
|
Axes And Owl Eyes
|
| Not One Is Upright |
