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Chris Nash Poem
Feathered in fire,
a blood heat of
red stolen coals
under your wing;
soles calloused by
the mountain road
long as loneliness;
step after hot step
chicken-foot lurch
home - what home?
frigid nest of stones.
Come chill moon-fall
you will be pecked
half-way to a death
by the beak of love,
feathered in a grin.
Copyright © Chris Nash | Year Posted 2015
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Details |
Chris Nash Poem
Ma
Horse, horse, who is your eye
Paws patient at Grey City gates,
Thigh-surging thoughts of home.
Horse, horse, who is your heart
Trots the duskward light of lies
Undreaming stars, empty as night.
Horse, horse, who is your lung
Gallops grim to War’s ‘Open Fire!’
Angel unfurling of common tongues.
Horse, horse who is your gut
Strides the eco-weeping wilds
Shape-changer in dawn’s early dew.
Horse, horse who is your mind
Canters home, over plains of pain;
Hooves to story you in nature’s dance.
Copyright © Chris Nash | Year Posted 2015
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