billowing.

Disturbs in grave repentance cracking upon the ocean’s rattle,

buckling swords like a python’s tongue, madness I billow

in the dusk, drysalter’s poison that pierces me in battle

a fool’s dance sparred, soon falling as a leaf of willow;

the razor edge of fate, wearing bone and caitiff dust

in father’s displease, death tantrums veins of the ghost

lauded violence in the stains of the abattoir, darkly lust

a plea to no heaven, as fingers lie from coquette’s oath;

abyssals red—mercy is laughable, the sword kneels a kill

unbridled nature swells where poison provides a fray

within my body, eclipses against me with pride instilled,

yet in this dance abandon I never move father away;

from venom enduring in death to silence,

brushes toward this redress as violence.

© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

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Originally published at the Nexus of Writers.

Reposted for Ingrid’s Sonnet Sunday. The topic should have something to do with love and well, sonnets. Not sure if this is quite a love sonnet, God only knows…

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