The ligaments of thoughts bend in mind.

There was no need
to cast shadows past,
I was walking in their presence, dead,
of tombstones mottled grey.
Littered by the travelling
of browns and golds, decayed,
the church bell chimes echoed
against the exiled buried.
While the ghosts smiled
carried by the unforgiving wind
alongside the canvas of brooding skies
the clouds gathered cloaked
in their darkness painted,
with the ligaments of thoughts torn
the murder of crows cry.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

longer and a bit darker than i am used to by you...

but filled with stark imagery...that creates a perfect unease.
j.

[andrew mitchell]

Thank you for your words Jacob.