Tuesday, July 7, 2009

mayhem in the house of ghosts

brittle eyes in the wood fires
coal for pupils,
and splinter-lashes
watch, now as the children lie
mock-executions with plastic axes
chewing dirt and screaming tongues
the madman writhes with mud and song
i cannot speak, I cannot cry
to clear my mouth of bitter ashes
on my back I face the sky
and wait for peace to come with blackness.

1 comment:

Joanna said...

the rhyme scheme...