Four and Twenty Blackbirds

The poison-maker lowers draughts into bubbling blue,

inky black like the dead men’s coves in Styx’s sea,

his hair coils like Dionysos in locks braided with secrets

I have in my hands a string of bloody teeth.

 

Gums bleeding, I surrender to Python’s bite-

Raven rises from the bubbling concoction

foul-winged and downy-chested with rain

acid drips on the horizon.

 

I am lost in the Dreaming.

 

Apollon Poison-Maker

ate my heart.

 

We dance in ash and madmen

skin charred, I roast for the king.

Advertisements

8 thoughts on “Four and Twenty Blackbirds

  1. Pingback: Babble babble bitch bitch rebel rebel party party « The House of Vines

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s