“Far from Meeting”

She peers through lenses to see the world,

she sees it through fire.

She believes in solutions and concentrations,

an owl amongst pigeons.

But she is kind.

She doesn’t believe in much,

only what she sees through the smoke.

Her vision is hazy, but she is keen.

She puts her faith in the smeared glass in front of her,

a broken pocket watch without a chain.

She renounced god a long time ago,

breathing through her nose and eating the fire that licked her face.

They collided once,

the flames and the monocle.  

They destroyed each other.

“Crooked Realm”

Under the water,

where sins go for slaughter,

it rains in reverse.

Machines spit out dreams,

stitched up at their spilling seams,

unsure about their new legs.

Wolves cry instead of howl,

constantly on the prowl,

looking for the source of their bleeding.

Fae wander the hills,

with hair as black as a raven’s quills,

struck blind by their own beauty.

A tower unmoving,

skin grooving,

collapsing in on itself.

All the kings horses and all the kings men,

weeping in a golden glen,

for they lost their king.