Asphalt Cemetery

Amazing poet. Please check out some of their work!

remaameer

Dystopian
night fixtures lit
the darkened gravel road
to the way
home.
He is the one who drives.
A
voice in the dark says:
“whispermeasong,”
on and on
the
ringing of the bell
demands a human sacrifice.
Tattered paper bags and broken glass
At the asphalt cemetery.
Left there by a race–
and a
person’s face
willingly
passed.

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