Blue Flags of the Dead - Virus

Remembering how you went far through the red grass

Disorientated in the wetlands

The mounds of stones, shivering

You asked the fertile crescent about the blue flags of the dead

The persistent scalding tone of voice

That you dance to and forget

Blind like bones, it seems you derive from stones

Black lights make your eyes run dry

Makes you swirl away like dying dogs

A greyhound derailment

Through muted cheering

You ask the fertile crescent, with its outer arm

That waves the blue flags of the dead

Delinquent and yearning, you groom yourself smaller

Like a jaded barbarian

Drawn to the funnels of surging departure

…makes your eyes run dry

Makes you swirl away into the grey

Boisting the blue flags of the dead