Poetry

A very crude question,
I will ask. What kind of
bestiality or a war―
you want to start, after a
little infidelity?

It was not a dumb
pleading. The orange moon
burns every night.

Some virgin deaths,
and conversations about
this side of murders are needed
to be addressed.

Water and earth, both
were becoming hot and cold.
Nothing was good,
nothing was bad.

The white gowned ghosts
wanted to become benign.

Who was playing God?