Week 4/Day 3. Dynasties (a poem)

This is my third poem of week four of the online retreat. 

1
Trumpet breasted kings tear flesh

Purple mouth beaks taste eye fruit
rich dark scarlet. orange coronal. potent.

The year, solitary, disconsolate
down to the garden well
peeling death
drips great red
burrows

2
A mother kneeling

Dark, golden scents
open, green grasses
in narrow, dense winter air

Breathe, daughter
meet your sugar

In many roses
among corollas
in beekeeper’s silks

in this speckled coat

the heart marries
an almost hieratical
circle of rain

Keep the circle

3
Round the stone
a tree encroaches

The throats of little birds
dilate

To my father
I nod

Your house

(28 October 2020)


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