Monday 31 December 2018

Songs From A Rifle

Lifting up
I slit the sky
But by the shame
Of stones
Go I

How the bolt sings
How the hairs sigh
But by the pain
Of Man
Go I

My hissing kiss
My tongue of flame
I am the first tree
I have no name
Of Grace

I kill like my father
And dress like my brother
He aims like his daughter
I dance like my mother
He is with me in these woods

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