03 September, 2015


Thick black roped braids
singing operas to silk ribbons
I always glowed

Unsubtle, tacky pride
born in a town meant for mining
kept tears short and laughs long

You are a pilgrim, once free
now trapped, disgusted
There are still seeds in your pocket

Save that obsidian resolve,
You have always been adrift
Clumsy vowels cannot not carry you

Joviality, horror, magic
The demand for strength
has never ceased

We were happy then
despite bloody broken roots
restrung with plastic winter lights

Your sorrow smiled always
A gleaming skull laughing, skinned
plucking melody from memory

Thinking of you pierces my heart
I pinch myself not to weep
at your quiet decay

Your wrath is mine, I see it
Too many days have passed
I plait my own hair now

Your grief will burn bright
when your opera ends
You will be untethered

No comments: