Winged Moonlight

 

 

This pale raven,

prepared to shine,

this ivory plumage

s p a n n e d

beneath

the cobalt sky.

Alabaster wings

scatter stars,

red-gold talons

grip tight

the silver moon.

In silent flight

rising

above the

shadowed world,

breaking chains

of spirits,

herald of the

mist,

and emissary

of a

sunless realm,

nevermore

to shine.

 

 

Vanquished

Vanquished now,

I return

to find

all bare of life,

and stilted, stifled purpose

laces the air that has

disguised her

earthy scent,

rank loam in the ruins.

The stones of my home,

my fence,

tumbling

atop each other,

as my men

from their horses,

ungainly unseated,

and skewered

for their lack of skill,

or a champion.

Grasping, bare, black branches soon

reach to pull me into

the shadows

of my mind.

As did she.

Merciful

was the

headsman’s ax,

and swift.

The sky and ground

joined hands

to somersault

in sun-dappled motley

 before my eyes.

And

I returned home,

now

Vanquished.