Covenant

* For my poetry sister CONSTANCE LA FRANCE, and all those who battle grief daily as we do. * ~ you … are no god … but even were you such you would not be safe from my wrath no amount of ones and zeros could code your visage in sufficient quantity to squirrel you away from me - no pulse or pinion or dark matter can dim your vile glare … your bite drips red each time you smile, wry and wide … the black of your eye betrays your heart’s ill intent and while darkness may warm, the light binds you as I bind your many minions with a cancer their own … you are the dancer and you are the dance, true but I am the music - your agency and your ruination and I am deafening … hear me - be still - be still and know that I am doom … the garland on my brow waits for your whitened knees and folded hands do you see? do you find the horror of your likeness in my eyes? it is burning … with a conflagration lit by the casual carnage you wrought upon my soul … my life - everything I held most dear … and I will be the endless reminder that thrums in your ears that you, oh exalted one - no god are … you. Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, October 14, 2023 ( This is a form I created called “Bookend Free Verse” )