Comment Box Poem #1

at last frost is only an echo,
where a hoary hand
once brushed tombstones
and pinched buds, jasmine
now crosses the yard

darkness disperses
as God’s curtain parts
a scurrying of shadows
revealing the light
where reflections shine

but too far.
God’s hand retreats
leaving the vacuity of heavens
exposed for deserted souls to

regret’s futility compared
to constellations constant

caught in a child’s hand,
the whirl of a catseye
tumbling into the drain
winking out
in the black.

it was always going to end
like this
blacked out
vomit and piss


Thanks to everyone who jumped in to the first comment box poem! After a long delay (sorry) here’s the text, though it doesn’t read as smoothly as it could with the links where I’ve put them, I’ll try and adjust it soon.

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