Crows’ feet

We have become obsessed with the endless shards embedded in the compound walls with crows sitting in them with their triangular feet as if making footprints in soap.

The evening bled with our shame where dark crows prematurely sat before cement is properly set and goes dry by the next sun.

A light’s shard was a kaleidoscope made of glass shards, bound in fevicol that set like cement on the walls with the crows on them with triangular feet . The triangular feet then resumed in a carbolic soap on the kid’s body gleaming with a bath in lather bubbles , like evening light’s shards of many hues.

The sun was a liquor bottle broken after liquor went on rampage ,an after-fact shard gleaming a town and a blue with the black label a shard. The sun broke many a light in a room ‘s skylight shards so diagonally that it ground light into a fine flying dust as if it was a nice protozoa.

Poetry letters are light dust of future’s bones in shards broken in their punctuation and language turns a dust after poetry is plate glass.