when I was born, iron bells clanged through
the dark mesh of witchwoods
lavish with gestures of a moon-eyed night-river
the willows gathered themselves
in coils of serpents weeping
churned from some dark sanctum, wyvern’s
teeth, basilisk tongue, the last chimera
some myth, mollified,
lost in the brumebroth of dusk
immutable ,
sempiternal -
an heirloom wound
it is mine, the webwork of trees
their caverns of grief, blacklimbs
reaching to the milkbroth of evening
bard-like cold and
prophetic
a ram dispossessed of
his dark horns
unpossessable, unlonged for, unsung
the talk of tombs into the towering
mountains of my dream: I’m born
obscure even to myself
like an
alchemist I paw
at this ore to
unearth the vein
that binds me
known and unknown, the drowned lands,
succumbing to irretrievable loss
and love, unbearable
transmutable
I descend -
I know your loneliness, it is my own
it is a deep source of darkness,
some old god word for winter
dead before speaking
how far
the world I knew and all I was familiar with,
too much has changed
I carry a stranger’s soul within me
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