Harry P. Leu Gardens, by Jilly

What the winds can’t heal
The contrails sever

Winter howls
from a wounded sky

Spliced fragments of discontent
litter the cutting room floor

Boneyard
Of the hunched and hungry

Light that has never shone
Moloch’s restless domain

Its bitter meal
usurps our Threnody

Offspring of the beatnik fringe
slice their tongues on prosody

Their teeth drowned red
from parsing wine

The young so wise
abbreviated flights in time

Dovetail earth and sky
mulled, singular, primed

Conspirators:
Jilly, qbit

Jilly’s Renga Challenge – Winds Can’t Heal
For Jilly’s December Casting Bricks