Silk-carrying ships in
ash turn intimacy,
perish in a lingering
cuss of venom bones,
stroking the void,
volcano dove fragments
blossom like ripening
fruit in a wasteland
of chirping skulls,
in a scathing embrace,
writhing echoes of singed
sycamore, snake in
a fresh fire sunlight, as
drumming hounds loosen
church bell clouds to feast
on skyline movie cuts,
in a spiteful dusk of rusted
ribbons, hollow-cheeked
dewdrops sweep forgotten
clocks into a wilderness
of back beat prayers amok.
Grey Sparrow Journal 