A Centipede in a Blizzard
Paralyzing tracks in the stacks of snow A centipede in a blizzard Dragging broken legs, frozen and falling off As the wind is full of laughter These shadows have sucked up the kill, my venom Now, the picnics are a funeral My dreamscape is now a graveyard In which you stare to the heavens Sitting by my tombstone You watched me wither like melting butter I am not a saint, but I was washed into purity Yet, you sit as an eternal witch Can you take the falling of the black rubies? Can you drink the toxins from the fruit? Do you feel the long breaths begin to putt… putt…putter? Are friends beginning to suspect you of all these fires, baby? You wake up to a crawling, cold spider dragging to the floor The phone keeps ringing like a haunting stain of air In ways I have always been your skeleton A Strong, calcified soul that you could always see thru Forget your infamous night The prayer for a rebirth A limping leg and a heartbreak of whistling wind The clearing is nearby Forgiveness to pale fires Is rebirth the cure? Evict the liars bell-toll No soul, a rebirth of a savage Watch for the tumbleweed Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog. Poetry from David L O’Nan in the Famous Poetry Outlaws are Painting Walls and Whispers Hard Rain Poetry: Forever Dylan Anthology available today! Available Now: Before I Turn Into Gold Inspired by Leonard Cohen Anthology by David L O’Nan & Contributors w/art by Geoffrey Wren
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