Plump fallen stars stripped to the bones baring souls
stand at attention uneasy in tombstone testimony
to inevitable rites of passage of voluntary defenders
Oxblood and aubergine leaves scatter dervish hearts spiral downwards
towards deep dark earth staining knees in prayer and long stemmed stone roses
tripping up freedom with flashing light fantastic
tethered together rank after file bank after line after triple rows of teeth
conjuring image of queues of grapevines of wine country ready to bleed
willingly sacrificing themselves as Bacchus raises cain and glasses
ripe for the picking were they brethren then in vibrato and celebration
though not quite ever prepared for such severity of the stomp
in a well coopered barrel of ancient smokey white oak staves now stained red
as the guns twenty-one declare honor to the fallen ones
melancholy sun settles reluctantly bids adieu
with fingers of god through mist and
into decent of chilly slumber
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