beltane

[italiceyeball]

on back of throataching wings come
dust mouthed and haughty dreams
rime cheeked, a salt lick for
armies of phantom Mes
undead traumas so
recently icebound
thrusting middle fingers up
through mud and apologies

frenzied fucking of birds
relentless clock rhythm
exhale a silent scream
broken tools like half rotten teeth
prised from winter's jealousy
numb delight of memory
bloody thighs and debauchery

a half whispered parable
a nine second fall
enough time to scrawl profanities
on ex lovers' walls
three for the acolyte
three for the tease
three for the poltergeist
but none for the beast