Poetry by Mary Bone
The rivers ran blood red.
The veins were seen on aerial maps
Across the earth’s skin.
Questions arose as some folks dozed.
“Will we ride on a crimson tide?”
“What could be the cause?”
“Could it be red oxide or the plankton blooming?”
One thing is for certain,
We can’t wash our clothes today.
About the Poet
Mary Bone’s poems have appeared in Vita Brevis Press, Best Poetry Website, Literary Librarian, and are forthcoming in Founder’s Favorites and Halcyon Days Magazine, among other publications.