Recant the loveless

dance of sightless beings.

Honed of her fine-tuning;

fleshworn and smitten by

your dark rendering of her


She wears your tears; perched

with the wings of piracy beaked

to the jawline of your sorrow

and unspeakable mystery.

Coaxed to the minims of your

threnody in shades of daybreak;

broken glass of the Waterdowne

mixed of salt and whisky:

Your flight inward

beckons the sinner in Her

to dance alone

in the brilliantly sharp

of that eye.

April 6th, 2011

Show your support

Clapping shows how much you appreciated Renée S’s story.