PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The pregnant sky drifted slowly above us like a jellyfish

Tentacles stinging that early April evening

With the early arrival of winter

blood-spots of rain dampened your long coat

Seemingly from the inside out, bleeding from

the ineffable sharp burr of sorrow that lodged in your throat.



I saw the sleepy red eye of your wound open slowly

You opened the door a crack

Such was the godless gale that grieved through your canyons

That it whipped you crypt-still and stinging raw

Crouched in a corner, your hands wrung out the shadows

cast by your falling chin on the hardness of Hell’s knees

A place where the taste of your angel’s desertion

remained acrid on your tongue.



From the flowering thunder of trees that forested your days

Beneath the silvering nights’ lancets that sliced up your heart

You hung

And the whispered atrocities you endured

Hung and snapped my neck from your dark boughs

You spilt thick from my eyes, like tar down to my feet

Rooted, as one by one

Confessions, like flesh stripped from the bones of innocence

Trailed unwaveringly from you like a wolf’s aria.



Your hands reached out to me – foetal-like

But I too was imprisoned and unable to rescue you

Pinned amongst my own blackthorns like a Shrike’s prey

I could only watch you draw in the world around you

And steadily blacker it became

An enshrouding grey season

A mist of grave-flowers in a dusk of swords.