Fate On the Feathers

When I met you in the language of lonely war three feathers fastened to your breast breathing sore many graves of gentlemen knew your score and the devil deigned for more, tears you had for all times rhymes and ribs broke from crimes making aching lore, ink of fire you did pour, scold and scorch on skin red soft, truly poetry the maze and metaphor, A feather you gave with each kiss and wound to savor their texture smooth as silken vapor, tips cut cruel by sibyl's saber, quills and spells I made of them, heaven and venom in every lash and letter when love was innocent, revolutionary, rampant with rogue fight, rapid on soul river with hawk's edge I wrote with might and flight, dominant on the flesh of firmament's blue leather, Where the owl's point pierced the vellum of victory's scripture antebellum affections covered our eyes with wings of damp wisdom and cool color, together we took the touch of roses and razors, feeling the sting and arousal of friendly danger as the nights knew more than days, secrets grew sweeter, dreams bolder, howls heavy and louder, our zenith reached the zone quiet calm black, a raven's stem sealed the song of sleeping stranger - J.A.B.