Beak By Matthew Aldridge

In the dark this renders
Ice uncanny.
Scoops your chest
Between worlds,
The aquiline.
These ghosts that dance
Under green eyes.

At first I thought it was a plague mask –
Not that they were much good.

Better to escape,
Through a gap in the light,
Than to heal what is irreparable.

Through this beak,
These eyes,
This in-between,

Breathing is easier.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *