bloody-raven

The child in my arms is bare and cold A garish contrast to the lively warmth I emanate A reminder to my heart how quickly snow and ice will make its mark. The child at my feet is stiff and still A pillar of marble Like carefully sculpted dust A reminder to my eyes how savagely youth and exuberance can be snuffed. The children left behind One Two more Their eyes like mirrors Windows to their souls that have fled on the harsh north wind. The man between my legs Wears the suit of my father The hat of my brother The shoes of my lover. The men that hold my arms Once held the babe I carried A reminder to my head that in death we a

He let the swing’s gentle momentum carry him back and forth, back and forth. His feet met the ground again and he kicked, the momentum taking him back and forth, back and forth. Again he kicked, back and forth, and his eyes slid shut against the bright sunshine of a lazy summer day. Back and forth, back and forth. Sleep now, maybe. Yes, he would sleep. Sleep and let his troubles roll away. Back and forth, back and forth. Sleep now. The rolling green hills looked small now to him as his feet swung above them, bare feet pointed to the bright sky that looked so much closer. Back and forth, back and forth. The bleating of his sheep was

The headless woman watches me with hollow eyes. The flickering candles, so inadequate in the crowded tavern, glance painfully off the rubies cut carefully into her mask. What is she thinking, I wonder. Across the room, empty to my eyes though I can hear the men speaking, she catches my eye. She is as enchanting as she is terrifying, and I feel her smile at me though I cannot see her lips. It is not a kind smile. The fire crackling near me suddenly becomes as inadequate as the candles, each creak of the smoldering logs now an intimate threat. I wish I could move towards the door, through the throngs of people with shadows but no bodies, away