I am battered,
a bereft leaf loosed
in murky mayhem,
kicked up from frenzied heels
Of moon and wind.

No mooring remains in this,
the last corkscrew hour before dawn.
I am a burnished shadow,
a swirling swan song to
inky nihility.


Madness slivered,
snagged in the hem of earth’s evergreen garment,
quivering on the abyss of ancient waiting,
hoisted on the labyrinth of solemn knowing.
The wind and moon scamper like chastened children.

I linger,
Lazarus leaf lifted high
on earth’s shoulders,
like an offering,
a vigil for light.
I become a trembling snatch of fire,
A crimson-tinged flame,
thrust aloft at break of day.


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