Lenore

Lenore by Kurt Broz

Icy rain on glassy walls

Spilled across lifelong gallows with

Unforgiving brick facing

Last in line to my written with

Moss and stones and skin and

Bones with broken splint

Rave if you must in a

Tarnished throne

Without her

No kingdom, no sea

Sepulcher encaged in ribs

Pumping painful fluids bare

Against arteries lined

With her thoughts

Death would be sweeter

The aches and sprains and cuts

Sloshing water

Maddening foam

Drowning me within her

Rubbing face raw

Tearing at my ocular ridges

Lost her scent in gray linen

Folded arms and tainted

Lips in dusty widow’s walk

Souls heavy with sand of time and

Drunken hateful windswept grasses

She shears into me line shattered

Amethyst

With me always in hand

With me always in hell

Nevermore in a summer dress

Convicted by jury of my peers

Walk along the pining ocean

Sounds of penance fair

Her name on papyrus burnt

Fleeting and small I remain

Ostracized