Aridity

This morning Nature woke up on the ground.
She watched as we were dragged without a sound,
Across her body's oily red disgrace.

We streaked her hallway floor. Rain washed her face
That reeked of char and putrescence. The light
Confirmed the end at last of drawn out nights,
With demon imps that suckling, scarred her breasts.
She doffed her burning dress, then limped as best
She could over to shut her bedroom door.

It locked. She sighed, "Y a mort. Alors...confort."