collect for a dark evening, with video

beloved, you were like octopus
proceeding in pulsing clouds
of black ink

calamitous designs
sprang whole from your mind
and exploded into life
as flying steel and iron-toothed trap

it was always my bone, my muscle
they mangled and spat out

you hurled us into chill wars
fought in forests of spider trees
against aging warriors
whose battle rhythm was not ours
but you always fought longest
and fell last

now you cross
the miles of destruction between us
hunting my last thought, lamenting
in this derelict church

the flutes are silent
I say, weeping

you say: don’t fall into the moat
something lives there
and it eats

you say: death
is a blooming rose

Published by

Nic Sebastian

Nic is the author of Forever Will End On Thursday and Dark And Like A Web. She founded the now-archived Whale Sound site and is co-founder of The Poetry Storehouse. Nic blogs at Very Like A Whale and Voice Alpha.

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