Sharla Anderson

What man has gifted her his treasured seed
for none dare tryst with wintry eye of she
lest his want curdles to crag or stone

Whose devilry begot her hideous hive
and bore a sire, savage, forth this sphere
who thrusts his ruinous blade unto the breast

What diadem now perch upon his head
not thorns nor serpents writhing round
but genome more horrid than speech could ever spell

'Tis the corpse of every bleeding brow
from his mouth pyres the souls of all

On the edge of scene
eye-scrying you saw singularity
an existence: washed and weatherless
whose essence one seeks to claim

They shimmer
from shadow to surface
in robes of rebus scarred skin
with eye forged
by giltsmith's glint