Martha Cinader

Author, Poet, Performance Artist

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Aren’t We Natural?


Aren’t We Natural?
Do flies ask why corpses stare at sky
while flowers feed on flowing blood?
Greed floods the plain.
We remain the same, destruction our game; we are the flame
and the ash, food for the fruit tree,
honey from the bee.

One response to “Aren’t We Natural?”

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    ACountryBoy

    I like this

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