Categories
Poetry

No Brutal Dynasty

By Robin Wyatt Dunn

no brutal dynasty

pink as gruel

shepherded and stolen

to try its fist in the night

.

no dead ringer

cut and chopped and lighted for the storm

.

no bleak narrow tomb

bridged over the moor

.

not your tremor or your trial or your train

.

out of this earth:

.

you stuck the mic into her throat

to listen to her death:

.

and showered it over the park

and piped it into the mall

and into the bedrooms all around

.

to demand your hell come home:

.

you wrote a song of love about a child

that you kept alone

.

and all your friends

wrote it down

and sang and sang and sang

.

in the most beautiful voices

.

tis a brute must walk

pashing their life out

over and over

.

creatures of the tower kept in time:

.

the funeral march of love is no longer yours

for you are neither living nor dead

.

and the monsters are overseas

and beneath

.

here come the drums of war so slow it is like a lightning storm in dream

.

kept shuttered against fate

and no oboe nor cello can compete with them

for their caroled keep:

.

and marbled thought:

.

cold blue and wrought like iron are her eyes

atop our arms

.

Robin Wyatt Dunn was born in Wyoming in 1979. You can read more of his
work at www.robindunn.com.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL.

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