Absalom

Faulkner is a heavy weight of old grievancesunresolved, the fester of yearsburning an indignant holein a pocket full of rusty nailsthe bitter smell left upon thefingers that reach insidea taste like blood on the tongue It’s my Mother’s words about the familyhow her Daddy was the twin born lastseparated by mere momentsfrom the seat ofContinue reading “Absalom”

Hyacinth

bittersweet early bloomerdrunk on the blood of winterswollen in the sleeping soilto thrust a graceful, frilled neckthat soaks up the delight of the sunintoxicating passers by toswoon in half-sorrow longing the perfume cuts throughthe air like an errantdiscus thrown and then struckby the jealous windso sweetness springs fromthe grave where youth fell,to sorrow-seed the fallowContinue reading “Hyacinth”