Poise on The Verge of Insanity

The Peal of Joy-Skinned Lullaby

The Peal of Joy-Skinned Lullaby

My love is lathered in blood and filth

Her blotchy cheeks christened

A carcass clad in counterfeit silk

And yet she hauls her weight to rinse

“Might I give a hand” to my dismay

Then designated tiny tot

A meager snort and she is rage

Through nurse and nurture later taught

Decreed strong and rigid

I claim her to be mine

Then shrieks young and timid

To mutiny arise

Why then, does love need be?

I crown myself the sinner of saints

Betrothed to misery

And grit my teeth then swallow complaint

Yet once when I was stallion

Tongue loose of mouthpiece and leash

I stalked close by battalions

My days a game of ‘flee the siege!’

The will that swayed our house that age

I scorned and cooed to pity

And crossed the guards with admirable grace

And hoped for title in glory’s committee

Not late enough did I discover

My pristine tales were  meant as tales

And all the points I scored were smothered

By tombs of gunpowder drenched in ale

It was then that I reached for my dog-eared passage

And listed my sins in pants of sorrow

My heart down beaten by cross-print lashes

And eyes quavered to rouse tomorrow

I sought the persecutor’s return

In what came next the light of day

And bowls soaked tears of mud and burn

My eyes light bright by angel’s ray

I pledged  to thank my rescuer

Offered my years if they’d suffice

I knew so little, then, and hadn’t heard

Saved from the fire, doomed to ice