Bones

 A FREE-VERSE POEM

The starry chaparral of your night,
The opulent consequences of dredging
Thorny moonlight between our gazes
Between a slathering of insults, misfortune
I see between you and the lines

Of profit and measure, of dismay;
The bitter, fallen clown, of mercy,
Fissures and gaps, the rivers of musings
Within your soul and mine,
The dark light of absence, virulence, majesty,

There is no magic greater than ours,
You’re the marshal, the swordsman,
I am not decay.

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