I cannot get past the demons which guard my inner sanctum. – Rob Sterling
I heard the chipping at my edges, felt chisels smooth me,
round me. Prodding, caressing, teasing love free
to breathe its sigh along tiny fractures
opening to the marrow, desire without mask.
Mouth, eyelash, skin, heart – touch is
truth laid bare as Judas slips to shadow with a kiss
the maul falls lightly round. Shadow,
unfold from stone light. Maul, split the dark.
With rasp, sweet Judas, kiss me more
prove me prove self, sweet Judas, prod
from bones light and breath.
-B. D. Silverback
©Rob Sterling 2013 all rights reserved
©B.D. Silverback 2013 all rights reserved
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