my mother covered the mirrors with fresh linen
so she wouldn\'t be deceived in her sleep
loving her cynical babies swaddled
in the warmest of fabrics
black horse peering through the window
as I sleep away those aching blues
dreaming of your black heart
dreaming of the last light, a dying red rose
mind scattered like petals, footprints in the snow
in my wandering I\'m a myriad of rivers
falling asunder, it\'s ceremonial
when the river flows, I hear your voice
beckoning me to the nearest shore
this bronze statue doesn\'t speak anymore
but the whispers echoing always fall deeper
into insatiable oceans, preternatural
muses never toll the fiery wits of a chariot
frenzied in love-fuelled rage, pitiless serpent
lost and we don\'t heed, when there\'s peril we dance
I am a sacrifice, a lamb to the slaughter, in love with the moon
no response from your son or your daughter
growing like trees in poems for our mothers and fathers
balancing in silent despair, on the top of hills
the truth is too big for us to digest, that wizened boot
swift to the flinching face when our deeds are misunderstood
crimson and crescent, unfamiliar flickering sparkles
in the darkest night sky
clambering mountains just to survive, the sea urchin
calls us into lavender city light, dawn with no sunrise
no peace in our sepulchre.