Poetry

A downy mildew. 
I will undress 
the leaves. 
 
Leaving the truth 
at your door, 
trespassing the moon. 
 
When a house 
was felled, why were 
you collecting the blueberries? 
 
Now, a brown poem 
will write your name 
on the guillotine. 
 
An ocean apart 
a voice booms 
a shame for an empire.