Dusty bones
buried in sand of ages
carried from days when sacrifice was still fresh,
still blood.
I carried you, sank into shifting sand,
drank your blood, or you mine
to keep us, to bind in eternal compromise
scythe of death, scythe of fulfillment.
Bones shatter,
scatter into oracular arrangement.
The days don’t end.
They carry into Sunset
oracular bones, dust, coagulating blood
possibilities not yet desired.

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