I look and a Shadow looks through me

i’m going down to lie again
cushioned on the foam of gutter yeast
bit by the sighs of West,
and Southern end
with hands full of silver stolen from the night
my mind’s a puzzle softened in the wend
when all’s a dry tongue thickened with delight 

i run to her, and carve again
a horn from out this cancerous lung
a tax my marrow pays
the debt of holes
that i may blow through it a charmsong sung
to warm the winter maid alarm bright coals
a lure to dangle the blight and rotted from 

I went to town to feed again
and found a carcass marbled on the heap
within its meaty tunnel
market stores
of seashell combs, and dresses from the deep
i in the tower ate, and mused the more
and thrice removed a splinter from my cheek

i sit at home and write again
to lose my pale and tooth-marked easy skin
a ritual of paths
i’ve walked before
within the smoke of imaginary sin
before the mind trembling at the door
the Eye waits for me, but never lets me in

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

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