feathers of fog drift down the hill
chest heavy, reverberating
quiet grows wet, breath laden
neat, blond wedges in knuckled-branch anarchy
the handle’s warm,
blade clean and cold, nicks across the edge
sparks spiral into night
feathers of fog drift down the hill
chest heavy, reverberating
quiet grows wet, breath laden
neat, blond wedges in knuckled-branch anarchy
the handle’s warm,
blade clean and cold, nicks across the edge
sparks spiral into night