More in Loom
Oubliette
Bright,
you played upon my hour's chord,
plucking limbs,
light as spring, unwary.
Distant,
a confined element
masked the laws of men;
unlike God's measure, kind,
an oscillating heat.
Caged,
these hands no music find,
his glove keeps night;
dark dissonance devolving,
vibrating skin creeping raw within
this shedding rhythm.
Tonal deities
defy the apex of my sorrow,
what voice ore hid, now falls below,
small sounds smuggled out,
returning rare,
to whet the cell defiled,
in answer through forgotten bars
you pace.
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