Saturday, January 4, 2014

If Only The Days

 "Slowly, silently, now the moon..."--Walter de la Mare

If only the days slipped soft
Eider down from quiet skies
“Slowly, silently now the moon”
Crests and ebbs in the star swept horizon
Mercury moments I consider the sinister things
The rush of blood banging at the back of my throat 
The cadence of daybreak
And heart break and darkness hearkens
Scurrilous thoughts scatter faster 
Roaches at the flip of a switch
Writhe in the light
Seek solace in shadows
Rats scrabble for higher ground in the downpour
Drown me now but I’ll never be clean
I carry the disease of this civilized beast
Scorpions under my tongue 
And splinters in my skin 
The higher rungs are toxic 
And the air thick with afterburn
The antiphon of the apathetic
Chirrs me from daydream to entropy
Peace is hospice for poets and fools
Grit under my nails 
And vomit in my mouth 
Forever falling forward 
The warp and weft stretched 
Taut expectation 
Of the cut that never comes 
Just let me fall
Feather light and quiet 
Let the gravity relentless
Have her way

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