Twist Of My Tears

Death
stared down
with dead eyes
from the scaffold,
hanging in a twist.
We marched by in silence,
wrapped in the stench of burnt flesh,
swallowing the grief in our hearts.
I remember her white-throated grace,
tightly drawn, as the rain slid off her tongue.

Through the unguarded window of my mind,
I creep out in the middle of night,
stretching my shadow across her,
covering her nakedness
with a gown of pure silk -
spun from sacred cries
and fastened with
a blue twist
of my
tears.

Reviews

[Isola]

Anguish is conveyed in this tragic moment captured by your poem.
“hanging in a twist” is both a body and Death itself. In few words you have painted the grotesque nature of a violent act.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Isola. You went back far to fetch this one. I appreciate the visit.

[Isola]

Thank you Linda, I look forward to reading more..

[bluessadmood]

this must have been tragic and very sad..i know
We marched by in silence,
wrapped in the stench of burnt flesh,
swallowing the grief in our hearts.
I remember her white-throated grace,
tightly drawn, as the rain slid off her tongue.

I creep out in the middle of night,
stretching my shadow across her,
covering her nakedness
with a gown of pure silk -
spun from sacred cries
this is very sad.. this is very hard even to tell..i know..i know
sad...tragic..strong write