Obsidian’s Edge 4

8:00 am
Up and about


Last night,
a cataract of flame
flowed down
the cathedral wall.


A black wooden bull
danced in the square,
sparks struck fire
from his horse-hide hair.

A red speck on my shirt
burned through to my skin.

a heart of fire
burns in an iron barrel:
who will be chosen
for the daily sacrifice?


A sharp blue guillotine
poised between buildings:
the morning sky.

Scorched circles,
open mouths:
wide-open butterfly eyes
burn holes in the crowd’s
dark cloud of a face.

A street musician
stands in the shade
beneath the arches
playing a marimba.

The sun tip-toes
a sombre danse macabre
across bamboo keys.

IMG0009_1 3.jpg

Sunlit bubbles float
dreams across the square.


6 thoughts on “Obsidian’s Edge 4

  1. I suggest you try leaving all capitals and punctuation out. Also, very cryptic style. Your lack of the use of the adverb suggests you are a reader of Stephen King. This is, very sincerely, the first poem I have ever read that lacks the modern rhetoric. I think the poem should be much longer. Jane

    Liked by 1 person

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