Rook fresh meat from white bone

Posted: August 8, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Rook fresh meat from white bone,
Pack a dignified cone.
Manifest turbulent new born love.
Pale the Mandrake sunlight,
Inhabit a space of twilight.
Finger the runes of your deepest thought’s consequence.
Dread-drink down death and ponder the topography of oceans.
And wonder, keep wondering ‘Where will it end?’

‘When will I go out to meet the one that I love?’
On saccharine sad-eyes Tuesday with a pocket full of promise?
On misty windswept Wednesday with my hair tied back?
On a beer-drenched six-pack Saturday night in a pub?

A mystery like a knot of wind, never untangled and hard to contain.

Published in The Bithchn’ Kitch


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