Submission- Re: Gallows by N Marata


To think of surgical gallows

Through broken garden paths

Like a stubborn tulip

Who loved the moon instead

 

Frayed, I go and leap

Through noxious sewer-creeks

“Plop!” go the stepping-stones

As my father did before

 

Sprint past the torn meadow

Through fallen trunks and shoots

And fading past

The hymns he used to sing

 

The only thing left is the ocean

From between two great stones

Like the cavernous mouth

Of some foul tidal lord of old

 

The bitter wind rushes through

Salty and lame

Beating against a son

On the gallows’ list

 

Do I not dream of

A naked child-god who

Years ago

Carved his initials on his father’s desk?

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