Into the Morrow, Like Howling Wind

Silky red and lush, push and ravel and crush.

When limbs pull away, deeper push,
coil in ways that clink and chime, and roar away and sunder.
Sink slow, pulsate then rankle,
How opposed this pairing, then pair again.
Slipping back and into forms incomprehensible,
large ovaling feats of mouths and holes, tasting quick,
like forbidden guns, that penetrate then smoke in fear.
To shove the eyes into unseen crevasses,
and blink in droplets of arcing gasps,
What can wilting strands and fingers do if not
clutch together and cry loud into the morrow, like howling wind.
If links lived lone, no chain could hold this world together.

The rattling of bones, the sound of hearts pounding into one.

© Copyright A. Marie Kaluza 2014

This poem is featured in The Red Robe – purchase it online for only $4.99

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