Bone

It is not a pretty thing..
or any kind of delicate cling
.... the scent of rose hips to pink skin
.... the new morning dew drop
To blade of grass, bent from it....

But more like the red shade
One might see..
Across two yellowed tooth’s
Jagged and arching from a mauvened grin
 ... teeth like a menacing and red smeared
Ancient ivory and bone menagerie
...
And pouring stink
Pouring stink

It is red and clings and dries to bone
..... and
The bone was used to unleash it

A torrent spill
From whack and grotesque thud
Until....

Whack and whack and grotesque thud
And death dump thump

And the life
And the life
And the...... life
She, ...

A lesser spill..
she does not breathe...
I .... over kill

I over kill..
To hollow her out
Her skull .. brainless skull

To hollow me out

The spill
She slows to stop and I...
find belladonna’d glaze of eyes
Find stillness in the red cementing of fate..
See art in its red and drying state......

Red smears on tooth’s
Like a cold boned menagerie
Like a Grand Monet
In my own private gallery

...