Shipwreck

A radiant woodbox of lies:

God knocked twice last night,

wove a gentle net

of gilt thread, to cradle the young

Fool. I am stripping the taste

of stale spirits from my numbing tongue:

Nights of singing

of the blood clock burned from the bone cage.

Charring vapors & smoke dreams,

Downed soot on a decayed stage.

I am aging like a dirtied cloud,

Rain, rain,

Heavy.

Rain on my streaked window pane,

but I am out

-side and empty.

Bright baubles and sylphs,

don't need a'body;

drift in foam and breeze, 

nothing but a splinted thing in light.