Incantation
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Last night nightingale you sang until
your throat bled, you filtered the
incantations of the dead and hung the
notes on a lunar thread. Next evening
the thrush sang your song and added his
own, he chanted carols heard in nightmares
and the prayers of twilight drifters. This
third night I heard your incantations rise
from the lips of the dead, with the moon
we harmonised and the tides of ecstasy washed
over the town. Now the nightingale and thrush
listen and wait for the living to sing and twilight to
violate versions of their song.
your throat bled, you filtered the
incantations of the dead and hung the
notes on a lunar thread. Next evening
the thrush sang your song and added his
own, he chanted carols heard in nightmares
and the prayers of twilight drifters. This
third night I heard your incantations rise
from the lips of the dead, with the moon
we harmonised and the tides of ecstasy washed
over the town. Now the nightingale and thrush
listen and wait for the living to sing and twilight to
violate versions of their song.