December 21, 2012

From shimmering oil
of ebony still

will come flailing of limbs
will come hacking

quick slashing
of hands now untied

tattooing no pattern
not even a maze

depriving gray walls
of their stone

will come spittle
wild churning rivers

agush from slack jaws
of blanching gray hounds

till one day at dawn 
will come quiet

-- Donal Mahoney