Microbookends – Under / Taker

under the Thames I slip
wagering my soul
for lungfuls of salt ink
to etch the fabric of the water
into my bones
asking in return
for nothing more
than an end to sorrow
safe passage to the source
to be held as a lullaby
in a gentle ebb and flow
but there is no slow falling asleep
in a comforting tidal shadow
thoughts are exchanged for panicked fire
my body whelves like an eel
and regret pulls me down
as my eyes roll up into permanence
another thermal fax, ghost written
for the odds were uninteresting
and The Old Man of the River
is always the taker

Advertisements
Microbookends – Under / Taker

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