Baby, I've got that apocalyptic feeling one more time

photo courtesy of TLo

The blackbird sang the white bird's tune.

The white then sang the blue.

Caged dog meowed.

Kind kitten growled.

Stained sheet was rent in two.

The sky bled red.

The ground flung yellow.

No perfect shroud was found.

An emptiness to swallow hell

fraught blindness with the sound

of fallow wombs, full low-slung looms

and sayings of crones crooned,

but nothing fled

except the dead

with basketfulls of moons.