’midst ’goyles curled
wet stones below
sleep I here long
in trench am wrapped

’til pounce away
and black ’round me
ensnares the wind
eclipses moon

batlike I swoop
am one am night
’til moonlight breaks
restores my face

my flesh not stone
am sleek with sweat
abandon spire
trees mine to prowl

poems: alphabetical || chronological
blog || novel || vita
ChaoSpirals