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