Coarse knots are
scratching open
flame lit flesh, drops
of blood dragging
into careworn palms,
folded as if in prayer
behind her whiplash spine.
Arch with the fear
of such vulnerability.
Wait to see if the
room will singe
to encage a poet in craven
flames- ruthless this
house, vengeful these bonds.
Hands tied back in prayer
- remember child, to comply!
There is a way and a light
there is a way and a light
there is... the morning radiance
on every smoldering sacrifice.
And this is just that night.















Comments
--
Every fortress has a weak spot.
Job 8:9
--
Every fortress has a weak spot.
Previous Page12Next Page