As she gasps for air on King Gradlon’s banks,
the red waters of her petulant petticoats part
to reveal the slick ultramarine fin that shall
propel her through this sea of bloody roses
by Providence’s judgment.
Our ocean which had once been her savior now
swallows her, dragging rotting rogues and spirit
spotted tongues down into her open arms
The bells still thunder – can you hear them?
In this maddening tangerine sea,
we are sheltered under
olive fruits of unity in a time
when the hungry ghost shining above
swallows the earth in Bendis’ name.
Sons on horses hoist hot torches
beneath undying skies, bearing loving
light that shall carry us home
as wool spinners weave the looming
dawn from fermented flesh.
I do despise
and so amid this groan
my heart regrets such shameful ties
In Greek mythology, Sisyphus was a king who was punished for his knavery by having to roll a large boulder up a hill, before it rolled back down again. He was forced to repeat this up and down cycle for eternity.
From this point on, I will only post even numbered cinquains.