Lost in the turns

The eyes, the eyes never the snorting breath

Over the moor the clap of wings says the sun falls
and on the tree bones a tow-tow-tow-tow moan
calls down mist as I watch you turn and start back

At a table dinner in the silence of empty chatter
a locked out moon dances in the silver strew
of night while somewhere a vixen’s yelp rides the wind

With string found I walked away and left your horns

Published in three drops from a cauldron

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