eleventh night

his face
pale like the moon

on a cold silent night

or the red planet Mars

bled of all that is bright
a great sea of fog

washes over his brain
a thunderous storm

or some poisonous stain
like moon tides it rises 

from miles away
I pen in my journal 

that it’s on its way

he fixes his eyes

on some strange apparition
his auras must be 

like a sick premonition
my boy arcs like a dancer

frozen in space
I call out his name

cup my hands to his face
we beckon him back

from this night’s black abyss
put our lips to his neck

and give him a kiss

he is lost to this world

in some transient state

for this war on my boy

I feel nothing but hate
he stares like a doll

his eyes made of glass
for a moment we doubt

if the seizure will pass
as hot lightening bolts
run amok in his head
 I imagine my boy

looking so when he’s dead

as the minutes tick by

he remains in a daze
I sink like a rock

in a blackish malaise
again I call out

to my raggedy doll

and he tries to get up

from his nightmarish fall
his skin starts to flush

like a gossamer lace

now a thumb to his mouth

the moon in
his face

 

Originally published 11.12.12