beyond grace

salted cocks shrivel and yawn. like so much thunder on the edge of the storm. it never rains anymore. the sky vomits tears. and nothing is quenched.

following the path. dutiful in our submission. the worst thieves are those that take nothing. but still leave us wanting.

she kicks the star. testing its resilience. She weighs the stone. Power has narrow parameters. Its providence even moreso.

A template of curiosities. Broken horses and bent bows. Position their needles. the soft churn of chemicals. as they shuffle her pieces. old images, new edges.

turns the hour with detached insistence.

She dines on tomorrow's grey perspective. Darker still with each chew of the meat. Borrowed eyes and stolen ears. Hungrier still with each meal.

Black of the blue in strands of crippled fists. Tepid ogres spoil the walls. Yet the windows remain unopened.