Cold Comfort


Suture

Before you decide to open a vein tonight
Just bleed into me
I will take your pain away
One more stain on these hands
Won’t make that much difference
And for once, perhaps
I can turn these bloody instruments
To the sutures holding your ragged wounds closed.

Not So Big and Bad

This wolf
Is tired, hungry and cold
If he knocks at your door
Will you let him in?
Is there a place by your hearth
For a repentant villain?

Put to Rest

all my sunrises are open wounds
dripping, suppurated, raw
blue skies crisscrossed by scar tissue clouds
winds howling cold comfort
scouring flesh to ivory knob knuckled bone
carving fist from scrimshaw
scrabbling iron hard earth
to bury themselves
along with all the dreams
beneath six foot deep dirt blanket
unmarked under mounded coverlet
of winter withered grass.

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10 Responses to “Cold Comfort”

  1. jewel seven Says:

    You and your “tribe” (karass) are like tiny precious jewels in a sea of sand.

  2. new the kid Says:

    echo
    echo
    echo
    echo

  3. orsen walls Says:

    snuck in here ‘n 8 ALL yer chips

  4. Twelve People Says:

    no need
    it’s palm trees and lemonade up here this fine day
    the plants in this joint look a touch dry
    beyond cold comfort

  5. nomynumber notmyname Says:

    momentary panic
    showed up at an empty lot
    wrong address

  6. wilbur henzpheeld Says:

    got a copy of the key to let myself in
    tired of crawling through that nasty broken basement window
    already been cut twice
    there is definitely an echo down there

  7. new you, when? Says:

    In haste to leave this place
    one thing was overlooked
    the sign was never taken down
    a path to the door remains
    browsers are still welcome
    tried the front door
    and
    it was always unlocked
    that’s what happens when
    the simple solution is not considered
    now recent footprints no longer brushed away
    593
    still may visit for another taste

  8. faded southern glory Says:

    after a bit of googlsnooping, think i now have an idea about what this rambling old white mansion looks like – even has its own murky swimming hole
    tons of room to hang these vivid images

  9. roar and rattle of the furnace tells of a bone-chilling spring morning
    the bright sun will take a bit more time to singe the tail of winter in its retreat

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