Dark Escort
The dark escort by a bloodied wound is called
Fire whipped islands, to salted bays.
Persons meek and willow
Tuft grass, oils, cherry wood frames.
Coin palmed nigh,
Mouth sewn and foot of the shadow, stalking
Aside the champagne roadside.
Various birds, minnows, bear cub hunters.
Smoking chimney stack, swirling symbol:
Revival, continuance, gluttonous soups.
The fairy tales of our collective youth
Sounds that clamber
Venomous troops and abhorrent winters.
Looking down now a blue jay frittering.
And who would I be to stay the night
Life and breathing timbers low
Purple incinerate, brown wood fence glow.
Malevolent mercies
Only a drop added to the sea
The dew drops are no matter to a monster
Cold forked faces see nothing.
Copyright © Keith Baker | Year Posted 2011
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