Body Snatchers
Twilight emisssary
Under a full round moon
Pregant from a white shining necessity
A goodness 'breeding'
Lips raised soft
Erect to feed
The so many hungry mouths
No this is no 'third world no mans land'
This is the desert of the heart
The scattered wilderness of unseeded souls
And they roll
Dustballs in a homeless desert
Searching out
For roots of barreness
Of snatched dreams
Of clawing earth
They break you down
To dust
To shell
Body snatched
One second from becoming flesh
From being a living single self perpetuating cell
yvette m smith dec 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Added by Poetry Lover
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