Jonathan Alford Poems

A black feather dances its way to wooden floors
I am buried in my sheets and unwilling to acknowledge you
Stubborn Daemon, you both bring and maculate dreams of her
Her face is lost somewhere between lucid and wake
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She is drowning evermore.
Black dresses rivet when the wind blows.
Drops are gliding down your cheekbones.
This corpse, it slumps its way to Hades.
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A man stumbles in from the heat of a winter.
A spirit to quell his own glistening like ocean-light
Spills from a bloody lower lip
In remembrance of a lover’s taste.
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An oddity you are to me darling
So I kept a picture of your face
What an expression you did make
The soul of every laborer of grace
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