by Georgina Willms
I.
A thought
Too small
To hide
II.
Broken bird song
Intruder bleeds
And silence weeps
III.
The drums of shame divide
Intuition behold
Unclean: a libertine
IV.
A provocation dreamt alive
But doomed, my hands that closed your throat
Enjoy forgiveness doled out cold
V.
Bleak the air now hangs in midnight’s gaze
My lord cut fast and held in chains no longer
Happily blank, the shroud resumes its march.
About the Author: Shhhh, she’s right behind you!
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