A thousand tiny tongues licking,

Taste the skin,

Metallic voices ringing, pierce venom in.

Burning reds,

Cooling greens – pool out, stain.

This venom counters venom already causing pain.

The tongues taste deep,

Lick the wounds below,

Pain sterilized, brought out to light,

So healing skin can grow.

And the scars repair externally,

To ameliorate the soul.


To Rescue a Promise

Laid out


What’s there is there.


Nothing left to hide

No fuss.

No hum.




Now what’s left,

Fits on the breath

Of a trembling thread.


The past

And the future,

Rely on what’s said.


Are words enough –

Or are they too much?