sewn into my smile,
must we part
by new moon,
or can we begin again
under sun’s cover?
Drowsy pigeons peck at puddles of crumbs as
emaciated ravens console wavering widows.
Cadavers flown home on thrones of hushed
bones dream of nothing new, evermore.
Courage, like early morning walks, is a
habit which should be practiced often if
it is to become a song that the soul can
sing in its sleep.
Process precedes perfection; every step is
a standard. Hibernation in summer’s spout
oppresses the spirit if an inner torch still
Hawk eyes survey a cobbled square, teeming with tamed shadows.
Café noir in manicured hands, harsh rays from a cumbersome sun
fall upon her cobra-skinned boots. She shields indigo eyelids with
bejeweled twigs, blocking out far-off orchards with all her might.
Expectant limbs howl out her name; their sickly offspring are her
birthmark. Invisible to the passing eye, they have marked her for
Flickering in futility, eye light vanishes at last.
Lubricant long gone from musket’s length,
horror after horror has turned muscular men
into bawling boys.
Carmine comets, too numerous to count, rain
downwards until no consoling bullets remain.
An involuntary babysitter, bereft of his blanket,
tends a makeshift graveyard until buttress’ come.