The Blacksmith

Forge
Of smouldering stars;
A corporal collision
Leaking sparks.

Clash
Of two bodies in the fire;
A blistering touch
Melting moments.

Writhe
Of leaden limbs in the dark;
A limpid varnish
Smearing skins.

But scraping spines,
Flake a
Rust-rimmed
Rain of red

And we dissolve
Into ashen frames,
Coaled now,
Just dust.

The bruised sky
Cries for our fossils,
Trying to
Rem
Ember.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s