So Cruel the Heart of Timber

so cruel the heart of timber

in morgues' draw where claws the tarnished sun

eve of Sunday sets upon the identical twin

twisting on the vine of fractured fruit

nesting with the rock of unearthly belongings;

un-saintly minds in  pursuit of idol gossip

as still stands the sculptured chin of hound

down wind and craving a mile of string

wicked with the mind of uprooted twig

reaching on the sap of its' tortured bark;

buds of May with diluted thoughts of reprieve

swell with the eyes of the hungry Henchman's bride

how distant the smell of her perfumed dress

where hides the insubordinate mood of her Capricorn tail

as grows her excitement for the wayward Marrow;

a single line of pickled corn where nostrils flare with glee

a dry hump for the loveless addict of powdered soup

how strong be the gallows to carry such a burdensome weight

in this gated complex where Stain meets Death head-on

luckless be the one who dares to call house before dawn;

so cruel the heart of timber

where crawls the parasites on unwanted migratory flesh

gone is the wisdom of crooked teeth with pain of broken jaw

gone the incontinence that came from the death of youth

here, beneath the soil of unblemished fingers and foes

now lives our Patron Saint of worldly charm: