Pyre Symptoms (Of A Tear)

See much berries in bunches
flourishing in bladed avenues -
the death hawk keeps it close
(that frigid secret)
but witness a glimpse
beneath jackal shawls
of an expiring dome
and knuckles curled like bush fires.

Watch cadaverous dancers knock on pine
with a dishwater pallor
whilst fiery petals flicker on lizard gills.
Pray for meat and rosaries,
a final cube of sugar
to dissolve in cyanide yolks
as Angeu's crew clad in denim robes
raise a battleaxe to cannibals
and maids of honour.

On maps of blood
not a limb is spared;
no gates opened for king nor child
for every bone yields to death,
nothing survives a sincere frenzy.
Born fragile to skin and oils
to a savage world
of time and cut throats.
Seek sanctuary
in the chapel wild...

@Steven Francis poems 2010