Fear looks with wooden eyes
from city veins in barbed hell,
to murder on a swan horizon.
No love of God
or love for dogs ~
Wish they and followers
would slip into babel lacerations,
clutching crooked jackdaw hearts
and muted hernias.
Man is safe from ref throat halls,
tricks, learned so well...
©Steven Francis poems 2014
More poetry from Welsh poet/writer Steven Francis. Described by one reviewer as "the poet with a magic microscope into human emotion", Steven is a fascinating walk into a dawn where the sun reveals everything...
