Wore it like a witch
tracing fingertips
along a silver belly.
Snake River.
Shivered twice
as onyx trailed behind,
once for me,
once for mine.
Pagan whispers bade,
inch closer,
further the ermine.

Drips of a soul
folded into the jagged
excrement of that bluff.
That blind chasm.
Widows peak, it seemed,
Drunk on the incline,
both vertigo-eyed
we delivered a hiss
to the ever-passing time.

There are no comments

Add yours

Have anything to say?

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.