Clouds clotted together the sky
Colored against the light leaking through
Fluid congeals and It’s gone;
The Sun stops bleeding down.
Patched scabwound sky
Lost the heat of Her chest on mine
The houses all stripped their paint
Shavings dotted the grass
There was color again.
You want a country?
We’ll show you what a war is good for
And the light did not drift down.
Alone, in the Tower by myself, I raised a flag.