It's Still Life

Blow On Through

A glass of tepid water
          and two aspirin.
There’s that old crow picking
my skull into tiny bones.
A simmering cranial gap

on a steep slope. Bare trees.
A footbridge pinned down
in reeds and a shallow creek.
You’re a kingdom of rot.
Creak in my bed. Uninvited.

You gave no signs, you just
picked a way into my head.
A simmering luminesce,
winter’s black crow mood.
How could I miss the clues.

Winter has no compass, it fills
the air with mystic frost, and
thick clouds separating blue.
It’s a simple tint, a simple
storm that blows itself out.

Combining Miz Quickly’s Day 27 and  Miz Quickly’s Day 8 “Two Rooms” prompt, and pulling two contrasting stanzas together with two more connecting ones. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter   ©Misky 2021