Rap & Revelrye: “Sculpt,” by Colm Gleeson

The heavens are asleep.10964797_10203584147586455_1964193293_o
The tawny bull will scrape his onyx hoof
And lay himself upon his concrete bed.
(The stranger in the city
Finds comfort for his head.)

Give into violet sleep.
Link by link, the coiling chain
Will ravel out into the woollen wind.

How will they come?
Stalking through our bedrooms,
Or echoing down cold halls
To cut the nails that, once, I dragged
Across your back.

Unfurl your wrinkled fist,
Let gravity lay its lips
Upon your fingertips
And rest, darling.


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