When the grey mist broke, you took off, running for the sea
by Zachary C. Bush
I remember being jarred awake
By the thunderous squawking of birds
That sounded like the musical fragmentation
For a stirring symphony on mass-mutilation
I titled my swollen eyes up curiously
Toward the spreading orange-rusted sky
Squinting from time to time to deflect
The factories’ frozen ashes that fell down
Across my raw cheeks like drifting sleet
Under January’s deformation spell
Beneath a suffocated winter moon
I watched thousands of black-out
Silhouettes circling me overhead
Before nose-diving one by one
Into the giant mouths of smokestacks
Zachary C. Bush, 25, is a writer of poetry and prose. He is the author of six chapbooks and three full-length collections of poetry: two of his books are forthcoming in 2009 through VOX Press and BlazeVOX [books]. He has current work published in new editions of Elimae, Lamination Colony, Gold Wake Press, Calliope Nerve, Poetic Diversity, and Opium Poetry…with more new work forthcoming in Abjective, [out of nothing], Calliope Nerve, Word Riot, and decomP. ZCB is pursuing his MFA in Creative Writing from the City College of New York. Please visit his blog, DECAPSWAN, and his new lit. journal, K O R A.
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