it has come as a low thud
the rage in me
a great beast with slow tread
boiling across the years
it arrived in dreams
a vision of smashed glass
I slashed open the kitchen table
the bats flew out
a surge of flapping black
so loud it was painful
lift me up and whisp me from my bones and let me float above
and I turn blue with light
and aches and pains and wrong words and cold tears all whisked into the bread of Forgotten and fed to the birds.
stun me Up
beam me North
to where the trees
grow thick and old
and the snow slips from them
with a drunken sigh.

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