in an english field
a ring of stones
surrounds
two young bodies
blue skies, crows fly
low to the burnt
ground
fires burning
on horizons dangerous
trees sigh, nature cries
an endless scream
as she bites
his
chest
fingers digging, lips twitching
white teeth
sharp
drawing blood
upon the steps that
rise
watchful eyes, gazing
with hunger
at melting flesh
the ritual act of
lovers
divided, mirrored
like the two halves of a
heart
merging, becoming
one
in the barren, damned lands
where nothing
ever
escapes
Categories: Poetry