Red world order

You are taut with blood,
stretching east and west,
red-limbed on the sand.

I can see your rib cage,
make out your hip bones,
sense the ripple in your

thighs. I know your age
from the tree rings
dying in your grip.

When you bleed out,
a new world order
will stain the shore,

cast red shadows.
Above, the sky burns
blue, sneezes clouds

enough to vaporise
tears and rain down
a pack of lies.