Poetry

Thick Breath’d Morning

thick-breath’d morning

sprightly clanging sunlight

butters washed white

apartment walls

chemical cold clinging bleach & sticky on my face

i am made some steaming creaking thing

unsuited alien

foreign element introduced

eyes streaming I glimpse

the melted night cling on

black necronic leaf-sludge custard

gaia slurried across sullied dew-bruised pavement

skeletal gothic-fingered church

flings its digits toward heaven as if

seeking radio evidence of life or transmitting prayer to Jupiter

a star of vomit lingers

stewed and splashed across the wall 

Thom Flint

© 2014