Barren
This night,
'kin to no other,
my pouch
remains clean,
albeit empty.
Ha! Le her,
the witching hour,
deem grief a poet.
I am nothing
but a wombat
in mourning.
Originally published in Disturb the Universe, May 16, 2025
between victim and survivor the absence of vowels Originally published in Five Fleas , 11/15/22
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