It wasn’t the reek of decay that aroused him —
death and pestilence
had been his companions and friends
ever since he crossed those bridges at dusk;
the night of necrosis had seemed eternal
but now as the sky
shifted gently from charcoal to pewter,
with the hesitant sun veiled by virulent vapors,
the tantalizing titillations trickling
through his icicle veins
filled him with a fanciful lust.
He had traveled from hell into dawn,
alone with his past — surviving
and burdened with
Today Peter hosts with a prompt on writing a beginning for a poem at dVerse. The first line should give a great reason to continue reading, and I do not really know why I thought about war today, I have never experienced any except in my nightmares where I sometimes wake up imagining trenches in WWI.
January 28, 2021