Sheikha A. writes

Gallows

Splinter me into a monster

my wood is for blood

drink the pallid water seeping

out from the leaves of my crust

I had a man rest his head 

on my sun-beaten chest

and had my eyes grow veins

out of retinas of shame

his teeth were premonition – 

a red ball of worms

they crawled out of my roots

I gave him ears to burn

the whisper of a death-still flake

fell on a snowy mountain’s nape

a spider’s womb ejecting poison

I gave him the frozen horizon

I gave him a sword made

from the iron of my breast

somewhere in the forest night

the music of the man had cried

I gave him life for his feet to sing

to tread as hunger at end of its brink.

Despair at Gallows Gate -- Vickie Lea Boulter