Mixed sorrow and fear,
never laughing o'er the night.
Circling above my wooden terrace
clouds trace moon away from sight,
I shudder, arms drawn near.
Skulk place-to-place, then hide
your face in billowing wonder.
Skyward searches find you missing,
ears they hear only your thunder,
when comes midnight and I should be inside.
Billowous clouds, like armies marching
through the battlefields above
fill the wind with biting teeth
and the startling brightness of
death that from heaven comes arching.
Wind shushes hope from mind,
wild twirling, branches fall.
Snatching leaves early from haven,
while the ghosts of brothers call,
and dual charges grow in kind.
Engross me in willow and oak-
do not suffer my body rain,
descending acid from distant reaches
of a barren lifeless plain
with frigid fires and cadaver smoke.
Storm will take me in my slumber
sooth my wounds with electric silk
for my comfort has been neglected
the very lifeblood of my ilk
spilled in some unwitting blunder.
Swallow fear and then my tongue
healing agony from flame
salvation lies in execution
lascivious licks of crackling pain,
from my body, affliction wrung.