The Skyfall Poem by Miroslava Odalovic

the abyss being bespoken
sounds more quiet than your fate
and louder than your history
like a body tortured stretched
on an inquisition inventory quest
thus the sky fell and was left lying
pinned in between the lines
in a dying Atlas alas
the words too empty could no longer
stretch the horizon lines
the wordles twisted aflame
were put out one by one
the ashen tattoos on his muscles
a feeble piercing on the tip of his tongue
a circled earring in his ear
twinkling chains around the starry ankles
and a curve unknown around his navel
all of them sing the tune of dust
piercing through the lelek night