Gone adrift in the morning rhythm
No one’s left to be dancing with
But a nymph at the drying lymph
At the crux of the pulsing pith
Ston’d n’ back’d at the broken sheat
Laughing gods are the ones by me
Star-aligned to my rathe defeat
Barren skies in the shape of sea
Caught apart as a part of death
A detonator in my chest beneath
Pace n’ move like a game of chess
Or a prayer’s my final stealth
Dropped in hymen, wrapped up in skin
Now her grave sits behind of me
Lightly falling my rain within
Silence, thunder, the tin and din
tin and din
© Copyright: Томас Кромвель, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126082401675
Свидетельство о публикации №126082401675
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