SHANNON REED-BLACK

 

King Of Winter

 

The Righteous King of Winter

sits upon his Throne

and Judges best the Ratio

of marrow to my bone,

and numbers each

the Crooks and Kinks

in limbs

of trees forgot,

and scents the deep,

snow-buried ground

Lush and Ripe with rot.

I Am Not

 

Perhaps, I am an echo

of something that once was –

the yester-morn song

of rising dawn

from throaty grey jackdaws

 

Perhaps, I am less solid

than once my mother thought –

and have been

-all this time-

a ghost

that Heaven has forgot.

Certain Cephalopods

 

Poets, in a bloom of ink

retreat

like certain cephalopods

 

- a defense mechanism,

for we are

thin skin and succulent meat

entire!

and opting, instead,

to use

our cunning liquidity

to fit in the forbidden places

& our sharp beaks

to pry open what is closed.

 

Love is No Kindness

 

Love is no kindness –

 

it’s

a sword thrust deep,

a twist of the wrist,

a hope strung

through a silver

eye

winking for spite

as it sinks

    each

       stitch

skin-to-skin,

 

and it oftentimes begins

with a smile

as sharp as an

awl.

 

Tired Of Apples

 

I have tired

of eating apples,

and the violence of thorns,

am wearied of the widows’

grey - with every breath, they mourn.

I’ve exhausted

all the plaintive hope

clothed in the pink I’ve worn,

and thus, unto Eternity,

bestow my final form.

 

I Have Called It Fine

 

I have tasted fancy bland

and I have called it fine,

a savored stain between my teeth,

an imagining of wine.

 

Green Truth, she ripens patiently,

but I spare not the Time -

There’s a Lush and Blushing Falsehood

heavy on the vine!

 

SHANNON REED-BLACK

 

SHANNON REED-BLACK is a native of Scranton, PA currently residing in Clarks Summit. She is a single mother of two, a medical editor, and is committed to social activism and locally focused volunteerism.  She is currently working on her first poetry collection.