31 Cents Poem by Phillip Erb
31 Cents
The work is done
God blew out the sun
And the stars are none
No soul braves the moonless black
The earth had enough of our 'fun'
our poison, our guns.
'We took a chance, ' Earth thundered
As she spun backward where time begun
'Humans? ' a dying star told me a fable
When I was but ocean and storm.
They lunched headlong into a flood
of their blood; too foolish to listen,
too proud to pray.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/25/2024 4:16:41 AM # 1.0.0.1119
