Blood On Her Tongue Poem by paul barnacle

Taste of blood



The once warm and blanketing earth, weighed wet and heavy

Sounds once as sharp as pins, dulled, merged muffled.

Scent and direction.came and went, like old half forgotten conversations.

She licked her wounds and wanted just one more kill.

A warriers heaven awaited.

The moon drew her upward into the night, pulled at her like the tide.

Sucked her from her lare, last kill.

The car that killed her didnt realise, but she died with blood on her tongue.