In which

            one of our own           

ventures on

to

youthful chaos wing

            the bent crown of a collapsed bird

felled long before dawn.

Beyond the sinister obscureness that masks a place

            hiding the tradition of an audience with

wary voices silently whisper

            Some fly

                        gliding under a molten flame

Others hiss and with their claws

            Hauntingly in the shadows

            a thing all on its own.

Alone or not alone

            better in a tense mystery

for in light nothing can hide

            This foundation now dissolves

Immaterial obligation but vanishing without context

                        without preparation

            swiftly, too hideously to watch and listen and wait for

silver fingers lace around

            a throat, cold and clasping, crushing or squeezing

dark juice that trickles onto abandoned stone

pierced the pieces

            of a despondent belief.

vindictive and croaking

what in this is right

what is wrong, nothing in a place

chilled into a chronic hardened bone

            Slit open a case of lies in a way of calm inflation

Misshapen in their tomb

                        but stilled. Gaunt grey affairs

of strings that hang and wilt and drip

            for gullible don’t notice

the subsequent variation

            in shadow when these ancient things shudder

auspiciously

spark

in a deviance of a truth

once found, melting into a puddle

discordant melody in a song

            Like us

now dissolved

Unknown but ever searching

            for those that prowl

those that preen

            those that play

on solitary