8:00 PM
Evensong
1
a skein of blood
reels its life out
vein by vein
he struggles
in vain
at the end of his crimson
lifeline
a weaver
unwinds him
then weaves him
into another pattern
2
left right left
he marches
onwards
along the edge
towards the brute
black knife
3
the key in his back
winds up
his pendulum legs
tick-tock
his heart
a time bomb
waiting to explode
its crimson flower
4
An overflowing river of rouge,
a great red gong,
this plucked out heart
palpitating in the outstretched palm.
As orange as an orangutan,
its pendulum, once shivering
from rib to rib,
now spattering the worshiping crowd.
5
White birds gather piratical thoughts.
Etiolated crossbones,
bleached skulls,
avian blossoms,
they fly home to roost.
6
Deep-pooled river of unsought sunshine,
this leaf light flowing,
its tears torn from tresses
drift to the ground.
Wild surge of bells,
flourishing their flowery sounds,
blooming and booming on the church
tower’s rocky cliff.
7
The cricket
activates its trigger of song:
bright flashes sound sparks
from tree to tree.
Soft flares this evening air,
this kingdom come,
so soon to be upon us.
8
Thick with an anonymous flame,
the tongue you parrot
ties itself
to a flesh and bone
cage.
rogermoorepoet 
So many great lines here–I couldn’t choose a favorite to remark on. Gorgeous, all.
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Thank you. I have been working on isolating the metaphors and linking them almost subliminally. These are revisions of earlier poems and the linking is now becoming much easier. Sometimes it does feel as if I were knitting metaphors together.
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It works well 🙂
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Obsidian’s Edge is sublime! I loved the knitting references in the first sections of the poem. I sometimes use literal knitting when I need to slow my writing down and think about a character or situation in depth (i.e., unwinding the skein and making it into something else).
This really is a wonderful piece, Roger!
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Thank you, Tanya. I am glad you like it. I revised it this morning, twisting it here and there, just a little bit. My daughter loves knitting as does my wife. My grandfather taught me how to sew (a long time ago) and I do the sewing, though. I should write about that … actually, I have, come to think about it. I remember climbing the Pyramid of the Sun in Teotiahuacan and thinking that, from the way my own heart was pounding after the ascent, if I were sacrificed, the blood would reach up to the sun and the stars!
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It really is quite wonderful. I think it is amazing to look back on writing and remember the inspiration for it that rested in some unconscious memory. It’s very special when that happens. Thanks for sharing!
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Wonderful imagery and rhythm
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Thank you, Al. I still have some tidying up to do on this poem. Minor things, nothing serious. A word or two here and there.
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