The Ancient Bitch of Days, For Chad Bittner Hurt
It stood a while, alone, the perfect phrase
Entire and beautiful upon the stage
As lovely as two words could ever be
‘Till came the muse, the ancient ***** of days
Demanding blood and ink upon the page
Insisting passion and complexity
And sacrifice, and violent hymns of praise
Her hunger and her ardour to assuage
In wild defiance of simplicity
The poet quaked in terror, and betrayed
His words to slake her raw and awesome rage
In her cold hands they cried for company
© Gail Foster 13th December 2016
Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2016
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