Beneath the skin
Beneath the lips
of my scrawny skin
lies a song
from dark pores
Beneath bridges alone
except calm waters
Above bridges with wreaths
and tired feet
stuttering songs mourn
a wrath for salt
Beyond my skin
is peace and a life
after death.
Sweat
Open your lips
to songs
of old scraggly skins
Distorted music
in happy roars
of angry birds
Contorted music flies
in flappy wings
and tooth- stuck harmonica
Beneath bloods
of torn flesh
feline contempt grows
with chirps of song-birds:
“We’re the lost warrior’s song”
played in tune
of dead skins.
We’re first borns
of new graves.
We’re death itself.
A song for corpses
lost.
Beneath scrawny skins.
**************END****************
Photo-credit: Dike Chukwumerije’s “Touch me in the Heart”.
©Poet Anny-Razon Justin,
Paths of Ecdyses, 2016
‘We’re first borns of new graves’ Good work!
@s@pph007 Thanks for the words of commendation.