Sunday, 30 August 2026

soul and bone

 
the soul thought firmly set
until love ransacked it blind
lungs, tendons, heart and all

the spirit ethered off
left but bled-out tissues
their fate the colour of mud

adamant to carve through
a paring knife, twist-gnawing
right where soul meets bone

 

Fragment #24

  Home being an Ithaka of sorts I find it where most stop looking Even in the smell of rain