Crack of Light

 A crawling call
 is catching storm,

 a lightning sword
 to a throat
 of sky,

 a sudden snap of
 electric hair...

 glinting clings
 the raining brief,
 a lyrical death
 is full of breath,

 my warding shade
 in watered sleep
 of mammal'd ghost
 & slaking green;

 humidity sheens
 a blue-grey torch,
 a scorching piece
 through the milky weep

 (as shadows creep
  from the curve
  of your mouth,
  a glissando gleans
  down your spine
  to dream...

  my treasured
  pleasure
  misting seethe -
  my dithered
  slithering
  skin & teeth)

 lipping clash
 the clouded gate,
 nestling bash
 the glistening crash,

 a slow-motion peace
 for soothing beasts

 a buzzing
 ~crawl~ (or call)
 on the breeze
 to seize

 the lightning
 silence
 gaping free.

 Machete seasons
 thorn & grief
 for dripping limbs
 & dancing graves.

 A sleeting sleep
 on the shimmering heat,
 caught on the gale
 to a hammered keep,

 as a crawling smiles
 the croaking sky,

 a catching strikes
 electric air.



~written in summer of 2013