the feast

hunger laps at sleeping angels
stirring up a blur of bees
faint, the murmur of wicked whispers
that brought you to such velvet knees

spired portions; raging, swelling
electric is the whip that slings
fire flickers from starving fingers
and burst into a thousand things

drunken by such precious poison
peeled apart by darting tongues
amid the flush of flesh-wings whirring
relenting to this darker sun

a symphony of breath and beating
the lamb splayed open on the floor
come the wolves from hinter-heavens
bursting through that trembling door

the feast
may 27, 2007

Home                  Musings Main Menu                    Next