Conception

how the night consumes
the dread of a waked man
with but a chilled breeze
caressing numbed lips
rending the pink flesh – jagged
weighting bended knees

could i come to know
could i come to stand again
braced for a season
of black, frigid nights
draped above throttling snow
quieting reason

hushed – dumb – low – peaceful
the absence an oppression
yet of some comfort
there may i cocoon
to shut out all creation
there may i avert
Conception

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