Your dreams dance on my face like a fine rain, the way they speak – in tongues, to the merciless shadows, what strange forests lie in your eyes, a raven like the dawn, silver bellies rot on the shore in a gaping poem of earth, I wake, split in two, unmarked, in a tomb…
sleeping in the ossuary of his sorrow, i, a black fly muted, fester in the fog like a blanket of soft-bellied bloat, tongueless- clinging like damp skin