Croaking sky, her clouded eyes
speak no more my wet rock home
thunder-clap for pain & prize
peace within this patient storm
feathered crowning starry shine
brimstone shores our fleshy leak
blazing calm through battered time
mellowed from her salted peak
crooning zenith siren head
sickle moon reaps loom for oil
mongrel boom for rainfall plead
blue tongue parched with room for toil
sings with fume to wooden East
melts with mantled Northern hiss
crawling chaos in-between
binding lips by cold abyss
cloak of space, her twilit prize
moan no more my garden bones
lightning-strike from howling sky
croaked inside her eye of storms







you’re so dark dearest Benjamin intiguing ❤️
This poem is heavy. Dark and intriguing. Nice work.
I imagine a grotto with the rocks are covered in with orange red seaweed. Then again, I see a grunion run when they come out of the sand, and the eyes look almost blue black
Another great observation, Fia. You’re definitely on point about the water elements. This piece was partially inspired by watching crawdads slip in & out of their dark caves in a mountain stream.
Powerfully penned, Benjamin. Excellent write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian