Cold Bone and Ash

Blood Into Ink

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I did not mean

to breathe in your toxic air

studded with accusations

but my gas mask failed

and your cloud of words

penetrated like the discharge

from a shotgun full of metal pellets

Unable to discern objective truth

from your self-serving fictions

my lungs are left full to bursting

with particulate gray mist

that I choke on

creating minute tears

in my windpipe

threatening my voice

Your casual disregard of my truths

you willingness to exploit my weaknesses

cold bone introduction

of a dagger to my heart

Did you mean to muzzle me

like a rabid dog

with shame

with guilt?

You forget that I have mastered

living with the constant bleeding

while breathing in the darkness

and spinning blood and ash into ink

that sears across the parchment

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved


This piece was inspired by the line “Cold bone introductions” in…

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