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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #1784868
A first draft, playing around a little with form and assonance.
A litre of courage, a hectare of derelict land:
A little boy folded inside the skin of a man
The dog-eared days of April are nibbling
Away at ancient and noble foundations beneath rubble and damp.

A platter of excuses, a banquet of lies
Black boots on concrete, fatigue chews and bites
At the flesh of my hungry, world-weary calves
The dribbles of redemption, trickle down this chin of mine.

A gram of phosporous, an ounce of strength
And petroleum's rebellious stench,
A shopping list of innocent faces
Dead somewhere between the charred Our Father,
And the oxidised
Amen.
© Copyright 2011 Joseph. (northernsoul at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1784868-Funeral-Pyres