Starving 4 a.m. doubts
Drift linger dart away
Paper shadow moths
Drinking false dawn tears

Silken dark windowless
Rooms with no mirrors
Storm coils waiting
Beyond thin walls

Dreams on shelves
Wood and glass prison
Leather and dusty paper pages
Prophets deadmen and preachers

Golden candles green glass fire
Smell like cold herbs
Like mummies dust
Secrets in animal-headed jars

Wind presses ancient hands
Slow and patient
House of cards whimpers
Fearful stones brace the walls

Waiting for something
To wait for
Locked doors the key
Everything watched walk away

Pick weeping rusted lock
Saints’ fingerbones
Piano ivory yellow prizes
Delivery me unto damnation

Storm is just rage
Rain curtain forgettings
And is the noise in the wind?
Or is the noise in me?

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