Chamber

In Poetry by Paul Macklin0 Comments

floating feet,
a subtle creak
in the rotting
wooden beams.

scouts honour to
twisting knots
forgive-me-nots
a reef and clove.

the hangman swings
a shift in teeth
that’s borne beneath
a river meant to close.

and blood runs thin
where love begins
you couldn’t have saved me
you wouldn’t have ever known.

Leave a Comment