Broken Fable

An empty window slashes the moon. Blood
is the meaning of the clock. You never
arrived. Who murdered you? I watch God lug
empty pails to my door. There's no river
whose water is so pale. Ruined light. Trace
my face without crime. Flower stained by night's
pain. I yield to your gentle madness. Place
me firmly to the ground. A steel star sights
me. I'm okay. I sleep. My skull presses
toward a mirror. Terrible white flames break
the throat of night. Winter is what hisses,
collapses dark into a frozen lake.

There is no angel here to disappear.
Subzero, my soul is wide. Ice. Sigh. Here.

Copyright © 2003 Cynie Cory All rights reserved
from Quarterly West
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission