Between Equinoxes The god in your body makes a wound yet you do not make a sound, hollowed out by exhaustion, fever plagues the city, withers its winter flowers’ flaming miracles, tongues down a melting angel’s stone-sour fragrance into rib-vaulted sewers illumined somehow by splinters of light, golden showers of shattered halos fading only now after the fall of man, redefines for an aching throat-swollen moment one’s going down, swallows whole every damned shadow chaos covers over your drowned lover’s smile to consume with a silent mouth your soul’s crying out, clouding in wilderness the faith in your Self you sacrificed to doubt, returning to dust. Share:ShareClick to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)Click to share on Skype (Opens in new window)Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window)Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) Related October 6, 2019 Categories: Poetry