Winter’s Branches 3

White wall with silhouettes of branches moved by the wind cast with red light shadow moon’s glow. From dimmed screens come rumblings of power struggles and land-locked capitals. As Earth begins yielding to life again, against the center, new relics that have replaced old, razed and rebuilt, only names and faces change. How many have known nature of the imperial boot? Leaves shed, winter’s branches remain. The white wall in pale red light, shock to the system that requires the test of dreaming. After locating the light switch, begin with fragments, raw feeling like picking out a treasure map through scars. X marks the spot where the numbness, negation of country and of faith lies. No will to look at those who sold the farm for a few magic beans as anything but opposite of self.

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Confessional

The first time

I saw blood

 

I was frightened,

But the second,

The third,

 

Like a game.

Is it going to stain?

 

Like I swallowed

A boulder made of glass.

 

I told myself

If the outcome

 

Was bleak,

I’d do it.

 

I didn’t think on how.

Project

 

Remember how you told me

That you floated in the air?

 

Pressed up against the ceiling,

You stared down at your body.

 

I told you

I would use the power

 

To break through

The seals

 

In place to keep people

Out. I never did know

 

What I would do

If admitted inside.

 

Walking down the

Stairs, the weight of judgment

 

Coiled around your ankle.

To a Moonlit Obsidian Angel

My wings

buzz at the thought

Of you.

I know: I mustn’t touch,

Must wait for the wedding night,

But oh! How can I when you

Burn so bright,

When all I can think of is you.

 

I’ll hope my wings aren’t singed

In your beauty and that

This night can go on forever.

 

Your coy smile, your gentle humming

That leads me to your shipwreck of

Desire.

I must. I must. I must

Touch your flaming beauty

Just Once –

Bzzt. Bzzt.