trap.

hell hath its
meddling hands
caught ’round
my neck;

no fury,
no sound
give i,

i only offer
this
wriggling body
swinging
hither
and thither

(this is the way we
wash the blood out)

in response.

all its circles
rush around me,
into a
sticky spiderweb
bullseye

(closing fast,
i am its willing vessel).

no close
whisper
no soft sigh,
no guilt
a’gleamin’ in
its eye.

i pulse in the
dark,
my
shift burning
clean and
my
ashes a’
risin’.

hell hath its
meddling hands
caught ’round
my neck;

and i,
i welcome
the choke.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s