Report from the Zone – a poem

*written from a dream*

Rumours abound on the periphery

As the air swirls, colours topaz, blue

Slowly segue, reflected in oily water,

Irradiated horrors roll unseen, slower

Than observances may wholly grasp.

*

Casual wonderers need not apply here,

Here be dangers sans warning, silent

Serpents of insidious holy fire, burning

The air itself, storms of doom abound,

Shown in those oily pots above ground.

*

Stay wary.

*

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