Homing Dusk

A hostile night breeze
wipes out the tears of a child
in the fast lane, for the first time,
the same way, the midday sun
dries up the high-yielding springs,
timing the return flight
of a single-winged
race pigeon.
A wind gust
caresses the aged surnames
carved in tree trunks
by chance third parties
while the deformed impressions
of their rightful owners
carry their sins to a collective grave
dug deeply under the dust horizon.

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