The fiber of my hemlock
Smelled of singe life and death
Ore beads of sweat came from
Blistered bricks
As metallic streaks came from
Steel crevice
The carcass, crisp and silky
Blade in hand as curfew flew by
Rumble in my bottle, pulped
Mortar spliced from empty graves
Ribs of coin foam from the mouth
Revealing silt and tart
“Hush” said the murky swamp
The feeble angel draws near
Grated walls show veins of rust
Crates stacked from window to window
Blocking my view of dark fairies
Horizontal wings fill the space between
Trees rise from the ashes
Spreading their rumors of criticism
Wounded dreams of black caterpillars
Slowly manipulate the tread
An hour glass worn and dusty
Gleams in the sun of lilies
My moment of shears is at hand
For the lamb, black with red
Steals my roots to poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dark and deep very nice work Nik