Wraithsong
I am the feathered thing
that passes through you
sinking into you, singing unto you
a familiar plaint echoing
through hollow bones
Wrong Direction
red-zippered welt of road
dead-ends north at desolation
arrows south to desecration
the route unclear, destination unknown
all signs indicate that I am lost
Threshold
anointed by the gush of blood
baptized in the hush of guilt
unchained, unclaimed
I slide out of and into
uncharted waters
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