John Thomas Allen ~ The Music of the Yellow Moon

death ridingThe children hop and eat pigeons,
dancing moonlit in their funeral linen.

The Little Drummer Boy huddles in pale
ash mortar, handstanding toward a lost star

his Way gone, choral reeds burning stink,
rotting heaven’s rumor of gold and mink.

A flame spree of screams ring, burnt
tongues, their small feet storming

our amputee grounds,
a single mower left shredding the hobby horses.

In ash colonies drudgery, suicide brick,
they scatter, each name blurs rented for pain;

“Where are we? Where have they gone?”
comes the piteous, collective moan.

Look not toward me, child.
Or better, stay to hear my long, agonized groan.

 

John Thomas Allen is 32 year old poet from Upstate New York.  He has work forthcoming in Spectral Realms # 4, Breath and Shadow: A Disability Journal, and a short horror fiction piece in Ghostlight.
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