The song-birds swim
The dark green depths
Of my soul
They flock
On the long forgotten branches
Of underwater trees
Intoning
Their deep blue songs for you.
My arsenic heart
Disintegrates
Under the ancient gaze
Of the cold-blooded sun.
My destiny
Dries up like a goggling injury
Revealing the cobalt bone.
The birdsongs are orphaned
And my blood
Black with rust
Weep on my helpless fingers
I weep salt
As there is no water left
In my tears.
Good One
ReplyDeleteSome times I fear
Am I burdening the branches?
I hear them whining, falling apart...