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Nature by Tom Pryce

Gunpowder scatters across flame of setting sun,

slowing to dandelion seeds caught in the wind;

fluttering flock of silhouette wings woke from their nest,

perched among peaks of black keys for trees:


A skyline that exists only in contrast to neon contrails

marshmallow painted by hospital chimneys;

trains seen from bridges—


the circuitry-arteries of modern cities,

buzzing distracted commuters from A to B—

tracks the capillaries

to retro future chrome,

brutalist stations the artificial constellations

that map a landscape imbued through dull windows;


windows the electric chorus of buzzing shop facade,

whirling phosphorous notes breathed onto breeze of night;

polluted glow caught on flapping fly paper staves,

carved by bellow’d-baritone of exhausting cars:

winding, weaving,

a hurtling toward serpentine veins

tattooed across midnight of blackened countryside

waking at dawn to do it all again,

sacrifice on the altar of the subaltern.


Tom Pryce is a 25-year-old poet based in Cambridge, England. He was recently a student of philosophy and now works as a writer for a technology company. He first had poems published in 2018, while studying for his master’s degree. He since has had two poems published in the Ekphrastic Review.

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