Probably Nonsense

A little matter of murder first
Dying by degree of difficulty
Blood of all saints preserve us
Something for the shield
I hide behind

You swing out first
Taking down what’s in the way
Side on the high spirits
In the cemetery dustbin
No where to run.

Alone in circles, night
Edged in a dovetail joint
Odds and ends sliding tab to
Slotted spoonbills crying
Over you

Oh I am fortune’s foolish
Games and torn, a dog-eared
Page hitting hot guitar licks
My wounds and still
There is blood

Drinking down the garden
Path to galloping ruins, the
Pompeii ashes we all fall
Down to the ground
Zero where the music ends.

-Zoe Richardson