Tender of the Black Wing

i'm all angst and wrongness.

She was a speckled girl, silver with destruction.

She was a rounded, full-to-the-brim crescendo,

Forgiveness came like frogspawn to the living-pond.

Like knee-jerk. The kick of the unruly man.

It was everything that ever was, the pale shriek

Of one who didn't want the speckled efforts.

The graying-gold of the up and down, the tears

Formed from rays of sunshine, joy turning stale.

It was dying life. A living mare. It was feet

From ears and love given to gunmen, in all likelihood,

It was a form of God-given death. Giving praise to

Biology, to life, to parenthood, to wonder,

To raising life, raising children, getting stuck between.

It was a man with jewels and an ego

Just as blazing. Killing blackbirds, first. So

They stuck into the evil like gingerbread shapes.

Then it was institutions, then it was children.

Sticking your iron heel in them until

They squealed, and that noise, that noise,

Thrashed the hearing-drum skin for a thousand sighs to come. 

Reviews

[Leviathus Fortes]

They stuck into the evil like gingerbread shapes.

Descriptive and enjoyable read.