Mares of Night

​​I awoke in sweat and worry.
​Sleep of unhinged intentions it was.

A milk jar partially filled,
ravens in flight above, within their glass cage;
as if soaring over white oceans.
As I tilted a pour of expected creatures,
instead... lazy crimson fell from its
mouth into quivering cups of palms.

This mare of night haunts
my ominous day and it's dreams.
Well bred, I dare not make known
my curiosity and it's deafening silence
on my mannered tongue.
"But what does it mean?"
"Where for does it origin?"
I feel a cooling just above my neck.
A prickle on crawling skin as these
golden hairs arise in salute of
the unseen. My most veiled day
continues on.
I avoid the approaching eve's message
behind closed eyes, in hopes of nots...

In my feel of urgent ignorance I stare.
When a sudden knock of knuckles
bared on my door. A small man in
stature appears and feebly implores,
"Are you the sir of the manor?"
I nod, with inquisitive surprise.
Unbeknownst to me, a telegram he hands.
In that moment of silence and confirmation,
the blackest of ravens uninvitingly sails into
my abode through opened doors.
It perches in intermission and I am
audience to us both. In fear of consequence, yet
my body before me, continues reading this held
dread. It simply read.........your mother is dead.