When He Speaks

Wednesday, November 25, 2020

When He speaks
the weeds wrapped about my throat wither,
and the darkest parts of night collapse.
The wretched laugh of fear is silenced.
Moss grows in the cracks of tree stumps.
Life where death should be.
Golden streaks break through the clouded window pane,
and seep into the coldest parts of my skin.

This poem was published by Ezer Magazine. 

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