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.

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…