The English Classroom


Orange bulb

Before ashen, crisp

Placed within a field of androids

Many, robotic, beeping

Oil dripping

But the orange bulb

And the fog of crisp ashen

Still fruit

From between the metallic roots

And the androids stamp and sway

Steel trees, a forest of wires

Reaching for black clouds and acid rain

Encased behind bolts and nuts

And strobe lights

A single android

Reaches down and picks up

The orange bulb with crisp ashen

And holds it for a moment within its lifeless hands

Before squeezing it

And the petals fall down

The last orange bulb burnt out

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