Quiet as a Church Mouse

 





~roar~


It began

where rusted tongs clutched & pulled the crown
through a doctored smoke by cries made silent,
forced to hide from Old Gods in the Dark,

where marbles, razors, & books of hymns
& matches filled the early days.
Where a husk of hearth & rodent sausage
stayed alive the memory hunger.
Where grave voices herald bunking bone meal
in dangerous machines obsolete.
Where cop & carrier pigeon crossed wires
to create a fear of phones & voices.
Where Mother left the bricks & box-cutters
for her fool Boys on the outs & out on the street.

Ain't that just a hole in the throat?
Ain't that just a bleeding testicle?

Persons of interest & substance were served in earnest
the orphan sections on the side.
Saw many faces split with agony,
some alive or dead or simply come & gone.
Heard shrieking widows organize battlegrounds
to detonate bullet points in hopes for revolution.
Felt the crawling itch claw at the back of shadowed
remembrance & found them all at ravenous lunch.
Smelled the cooking from a crevice & crept forth
for more than one release or laceration.
Tasted righteous & horrified through the haze of daze
as seen through the eyes of slaughter,

where the golem's black boots carries bloody bits of lip & nose
for the remainder of the day.
Where weapons fumbled about in hideous sagging pants
& laughter was to be heard from every crack in the concrete.
Where a tenebrous nerve & blackguard mind
tempers a galvanizing swim through piss & shit
that achieves immunity.
Where broken hearts & busted heads inspire
belief & a dare to eat the rail while fucking mountain lions.

Now,

the days are mostly a light breeze that sweeps the ground.
Now, the only tears are from chemical fumes
& nostalgic songs.
Now, there are no fists foreshadowing the forces
to a silence like that of a church mouse,

now searching for those
Old Gods in the Dark.

Now everything is still, mostly,
& quiet.
 

~squeak~