Friday, 16 November 2012

Ruark

Ruark

his shadow disturbs

the light.

My morning walk waits

by Corinthian column square,

sharpened by autumn

sun chills.

His perch,

to stand in silhouette

on a glossed and gilded

guardian gate

and inhale the air.

Breeze of ghost song

through acanthus leaf castings

incidental

to grey birds'

choral discord.

They are no distraction

from Ruark.

He has me spellbound

in hypnotic gaze inky,

flight unfolding

gaining from a sea wind.

I am on his line

claw hook hanger.

Feather wing fanning

down cast then ecstatic,

chevron tail.

I give free will away

and I follow.

Glide drawing near

I'm ringed around

twice to be sure.

I swallow a draught

of cold morning

and he leads me

to the place of bird ways.

Far wing caught by shine

caught by my eye

to the nest

of dove young

and Ruark takes their lives

with dagger beak,

one by the last one

is mine.

All gone

to the broken feelings

of a sentimental soul.

And a cradle left empty

for the swag

of a stealing relation.

~

In my dream

I sleep.

Bird wings like hands,

shadow

growing to cover me

a feather or finger

strangling glove

my love

lands whispering

all the secrets held by the sky

stroke my throat.

Beat of wings

and my heart

closing together.

A black drop from his eye

falls on my lip

opens in a sigh of red.


 


 

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