Bones

(9th March 2013)

What IS it I have here?
A snack? Peckings? Three-course feast?
Something to chew over?

Or spit to fire?
A full roast?
Or bones for distant hounds
The hell they bring me
I cannot think of eat
And to nourish just prolonged
The beast inside

And what next?
How now?
Where will my journey commence?
And road take me?
In gear or slipping
Sun or rain? Wind? Snow?
The far I am,
The less I WANT now to go