Redwater
What is poisoned by hatred may only be flushed out with blood.
A frigid drowning fills the air in our bodies
by morning. Neighbors watch over waterways
as mourning neighbors still. We wait
//
in weighted silence, split by the rapids
betwixt. Somehow, their sordid smiles
pierce through the distance.
//
Tears freeze the softs of our skin. Flesh burns.
A foaming pressure pulls our bones
to the surface, the gelid waves
//
less threatening than the neighbors opposite.
Our anguish is still somehow
insufficient. Their avaricious mouths
//
open wide. We do not feel them tear open
our sinews nor feed, only their ravenous desire
to dilute
//
the deluge with poison and ensure our blood
stains the whitewater red--no matter
the cost to their morality, our bodies,
//
or the lives of our friends.
About the Creator
Corvus
Corvus is a kaleidoscope of Gothic word-craft, stuck somewhere within the hurricanes of prose and poetry and wrung out on each page. Find more fragments of the love letter on their website, corvuslove.
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