after "The Tin Temple" by Lisa Pasold
beware the tin temple
the silver-tongued, the brazen,
behold the falling ashes
city new-sprung, light reigniting
people nearer positions close
to never scatter to scamper to
fly forth green, seascape beyond
moat, their voices wings in
flight attempting with each bat
to catch up, behold that cave-shadow
beyond and farther still the tin sound
growth a whispered rush crawling
close now in the dusk squint to
see clear the onslaught shimmers
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