Light Shows from a Circus Vulva

The engines were exploding underneath the barbwire,
As fire reached up through the old circus ground.
As all the children were watching, with eyes peeled and swollen,
And angels came falling, tumbling without a sound.

The preacher named Isaiah and his four hundred children
Were laughing at lovers holding onto our space.
My brother and I were walking out into the moonlight.
Our babies were screaming, crawling into our face.

Now the world is beginning to bloom like the blister
That’s leaking with milk from our broken glass piece,
So all we have left is to fade out from your view,
As the giants are burning and all of the screaming won’t cease.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4lo569/of_mountains/d3p1f4q
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4lo81n/real_love/d3p1cyj