Tuesday 26 February 2019

Things My Mother Taught Me

My heart is a weapon
Her love is a gun
My knife is the night
Her king is the sun

She wears the river as a cloak of feathers
She sings hymns of dawn's retort
Moonlit tempest of nigh all weathers
Dead princes throng the court

Fools and ministers
Both glut of equal blame
Bits of broken sky upon their plates
Clasping never to a name

Tyrants and their fuck-toys
Always sound the same
Beggars carry crowns of light
While dead princes carry shame

This was yesterday and today
Perhaps again tomorrow
Another little annihilation
Or mother dressed as sorrow?

Cloak of feathers
Dawn's retort
Nigh all weathers
Throng the court

Heart as a weapon
Love as a gun
At night
The sun

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