blather
slagheap
misstree a bomb went off, once,
and the fire inside
was enough to scorch clean fertile earth
and the toxins it spread
mutated life for miles around
and outside that area life goes on
much as it always has
but visitors, sometimes they don't know,
sometimes they wander to the wrong place,
sometimes they disappear,
dragged down by twisted hands
to feed ragged maws
that know nothing but aftermath. 		070411
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marked . 070411
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somebody grimacing 070411
what's it to you? blather
who go from