Broken Arrow – November 2024

Blue mountains of January hangovers
Tick goes the hangman’s clock
Cold voices in the chapel
Even hollowed minds remember

Carried by broken arrow
Shard and pebble
Shadows of slumbering yew
Burnt into memory

Her eyes naked like the sky
Each day a year
Each year a day
Horror stalks all that live

Darkness grows quiet
Against roars of western waters
Time turned to dust
Always midnight