Poet 11: Briony

I moved along the stony grass

My feet beneath me pale,

I felt each blade twitch underfoot

And stroke my skin-like veil.

 

I walked along the dewy sand

Each wave pulsating free,

Each grain of life cascades and folds

All whisper, secretly.

 

I crawl below my sinew’s sol

Too eager for a foil,

My writhing past heaves me along

Dredged naked in the soil.

 

I plod along the pricking edge

A summer sword aloft,

A tapestry of splashing red

Makes dry flesh raw and soft.

 

My strolling days pull short

As the snaking rope entwines,

One rampant plough,

A tender sheath-

 

My wand’ring soul

Confined.

The End

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