‘Butcher’s Psalm’
Your call—
a wolf’s bay
cracking the sky’s
brittle skull,
splintering crystal coffins
I’ve mortared round my ribs
with a mute despair, too often.
That bellow’s a storm of sound,
clawing at raw hems of my flesh,
demanding I feel it,
demanding the fire grows.
…
(Full poem link in bio)
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