-

When caught of wretched moaning shrill
and rusted fence in spite
Where creatures stalk and blood shall spill
this wicked August night

Does call the wind in grand charade
of noises gripping sound
Beyond the weeds of sharpened blade
now crushed upon the ground

For as your eyes do cast your fear
with ridicule the seed
And cry your shining empty tear
for clemency you plead

Feel these fingers swiping firm,
flesh in tattered strands
Matters not how much you squirm
or pray with folded hands

When terror forms your face to bear
this crooked smile sneers
Clenching tight your matted hair
as breath soon disappears

Drenched of sweat and splashing mud
from footprints as you flee
Listen close the echoed thud
of nothing you can see

Languish deep with sorrowed call
these thoughts a’ roam your head
This night shall cackle at your fall
and drink when you are dead

~

I mistook
the sea for
the sky while
it slumbered
mid the garden
where I was
dreaming
*in poetry