House Of Bones

I hear you in the yawning thaw

Of a thousand chilled whispers

Through weeping fields

Of scorched beryl bounty.

Under a fallen sun’s kiss

Dusk’s latent funeral

Is a thirsty sinking light

A humble bow and burn.

The black eyed angel in the courtyard

Is overcome

By the violent bloom

Of rose petal skies.

I’ve returned

Suited in shadow black

To mourn an empty house

Where love now starved

Once lived.

I think aloud

That a house

Was never meant

To be a grave.

Winter leaks

Through the lace

Of my razed soul

Its viper hiss

Boiled kettle steam

Its ear splitting blasts

An ugly and frosted scream

Of cogent volume.

This house

Is both sanctum and storied sadness

And salts the wounds

Of freshwater streams

And rains a teary cascade

All ire and vinegar

Where diver’s depths

Can never reach.

My heart starts to bleed.

I take these weathered feet

To walk again through glass and ghosts

And stir back to life

The symphonic thunder

Of muted dreams

Delivered from the hourglass clutch

Of time’s charlatan beast.

The rustic music box wakes up

Her porcelain chipped dancer

Eyeing the hollowed rooms

In an untamed rickety loop

Spinning weakly

To love’s lost songs of doom.

I think that I must go

And let these memories weep

So I close the sighing door

To let the skeletons sleep.