Autumn falls on lids of summer as brown kohl; dust sticks to formica – dim laminates – dreary clouds not heavy enough to pour, sun sleeps without sheets, stars bulge like heat-wombs ready to expel – air bites like bugs-scratched land; necks of trees on blade of axe, green silky bands of crowns shorn – barks planked, piled with their withered parts; dry weeds irrigate soil’s uterus, roots stoned like cracked clay; dusk smudges like mascara- tears, rooms bleak from smog – homes invaded by carbon – moon drowns in a sea of smouldering char. First published in The BeZine for Climate Action for Peace