Quake Song

Quake Song

The quake ran through the capitol—

beneath it burns a hell.

Above the ground we couldn’t reach

inside the earth’s bent shell.

The road’s a sieve, foundations sunk

inside the choking dust.

The injured die, the babies starve,

their lips a withered crust. 

A prison threw out crushing blocks,

the sewers vomit tongues.

We all could be survivors—

licking clean our young. 


Catherine Zickgraf

Catherine Zickgraf’s main jobs are to hang out with her family and write poetry. Her work has appeared in the Journal of the American Medical Association, PankVictorian Violet Press and The Grief Diaries. Her recent chapbook, Soul Full of Eye, is published through Aldrich Press

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