Blink, Flutter, Blink

Scratching the earth with dirty fingernails,
clawing up the old roots, the rotting wood, the filthy cloth,
and the decayed bones of long ago, deep under where the coffins lie,
into the muddy wetness, the worm-crawling brown clay.
Curl up, ball up into a tight circle of shiverflesh,
dream: a tree, stretching hoary limbs to the star-scarred sky,
ragged leaves a-tremble in the ice wind.

Blink.

A castle, stone solid walls wrapped in ivy,
gray windbare towers, torn snapping pennants
and ripped gonfalons.

Blink.

A statue, cool marble feet, hard rounded thighs,
fold robes of frozen stone cascade, high cheeks
under eyes of chill, chiseled white curls, a seven-point crown.

Blink.

Smashed worm-gut dripping in your face.

Blink.
Flutter.
Blink.

Helix of smoke ascending, flying up from sparkcracking flames,
flying up to ride with the invisible ice-spirits of the night.

Blink.

Snow-capped mountain, earth leaping to the arch.

Blink.
Flutter.
Blink.

The sky-mask, stars circling the eyes of God,
the frost of his condescension, the magnitude of his indifference,
the insignificance of your passing.

Your breath escapes at last. Peace,
a frozen field.

poetry by Bart Everson