Bitter Tastes

Salt is the taste

upon my liar’s tongue–

the bitter-bitter of indecision

where ebon seagulls will not fly.

Charon–I should say he waits–

but the feathers drift

to bubbled life

the world twisted overhead

no hands to the flotsam

brighter lips once cast.

They always said to take my jacket

yet still ensconced

I never saw the need,

never saw the waves that bore me down

into the drink, the horror

dive into the inky loan.



Golden Twilight

sinks into the final gasp,

a flame too bright for any sight,

fades not in thunder, but a rasp.

Ink etches yet into the sketch

no more the streets,

long shadows stretch,

fading color, sinking beats.

* My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! Once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well– they’re a skilled bunch of poets, looking to form a community and support one another.  Enjoy!