Charlotte thunder, forks through night sky.
Wistful rain, wind swept trees life afire.
Lawless, storms of unfaithful rains.
Hurling snows, against a mirage of darkened clouds.
A white plaster, to freeze the dying earth below.

A featherless wing, crooked in sound
Hinges rusting away in dust, their creaks echo across silence.
The wingless angel, its words black as poison.
Footsteps in the black, the crunch of the leaves and snow.
A wolves howl, the womb of black wind.

Boiled water, searing as does a wound.
The infant berry, tart as stone.
A silver dagger, warm like frozen ice.
Lick thy cracked lips, taste thy blood.
Blood, thick and sweet. All we have and all we can lose.

The blistering embers, scarred hands in fires light.
Dry earth, strands of sand gouging against skin.
Weapons in hand; a death grasped in mind.
The needle, followed by crisp strand of black thread.
The softest of silks, strangled in flame.

Air after the storm. Dabbles of water brought to cleanse.
Shallow grave enrooted, rotting flesh touched by plague.
Cities warmth, covered by the smog of gas.
Oceans breeze, its freshness overwhelming.
Gold’s greed, smell its corruption.