Scattered

A Poem by Perdition

I rode these nights out as a gift

Maybe to life’s tiny hands,
Maybe to its helix cinders
Rising in shock and afterlife

To emptiness

Dismantled clocks spinning where night stood

Watching farther piers, listening to scattered sounds I used to pray

I scathed into the ears of a devil cold as steel

To the past “Our Fathers” in the scorching good

Believing truth was still a chance

Absent to any scars at all-

Then I flew

To the receding blood bark of sycamores that cradled me in sunlight as I made a gentle home

Down beneath the rocky creeks I died

I left these nights

Cruel as chance,

I scratched out Jesus on my priori grave
A passing wound unleashed.
I’m sure you heard it, at least once-
Married it to the stones that laid brightly beside
Just as innocently as I-
I rode it to oblivion where
Nothing has returned
Years, the most suffered of all
Tending to our pile of ash
Churning and returned through the
Mere plateaus called rain
Tangled strangers
Arranged and
Abandoned shoes
Raincoats in the red of morning light.