The Beast

The beast is peering through the window.
Its breath makes clouds across the pane.
The tap, tap, tapping of its fingers.
The raspy laughter and clinking chains.

The beast is stirring in the shadows.
Its blood is coursing through my veins.
A last chance stand before it lingers.
The beast will be all that remains.

The Wonder

I’ll call this state ‘the wonder’
as I wander the edge of this hope.
In the middle lives the daughter,
she’s made for herself a new home.

I’ll curse the stars we dwell under
and will burn before I reap and sew.
I’ll carry this burden so much farther
and will see how far I can roam.


Assigning blame
fortune says the fortunate
will be the last to see a grave
but love died anyway
and I’m left assigning blame

my heart will not operate
and a rate no less than grave
as love died all the same
and you won’t cooperate