Some knew me before the hell ignited
in times before oceans seethed,
the dragon slept in its molten nest
while a gentler boyo breathed.
T'was there I walked in cushioned cysts
no whisky flamed these cheeks,
before glass and bolt descended
like crews of bandaged freaks.
My fists as calm as jellyfish
slapped on buttered thighs,
my skull fried storms a millpond
asleep behind virgin eyes.
Neither hurricane or gallows tune
creased this sober frame,
both fang and c**k stayed holstered
remembering I was tame.
Long nights were safe from phantom
and feral deathly hounds,
and mornings brought no iron grave,
no oubliette in the ground.
But mad frost fell upon sanctuary
and horns grew from the child,
both lambs and chicks lay scalded
from the halo of the wild...
@Steven Francis poems 2011
Slip the noose of dying and madness for a time and share some observations with Welsh poet Steven Francis in this, his 5th collection of poetry.
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