‘sick figure footprints’

chain-be-gone memories
destiny upon a stick,
switched deep into keening flesh,
an attempt to choke the ill fated.

so hobbles the broken,
bone-spur body...crippled frame,
such sights brave pierced pupils,
another tear for mother’s closet.

sick figure footprints ~

left only this sound
among mission bell tones,
who tongue-ring the end
in terse interval fashion.

but harmony hells serenade
and shame the turn-around mirror,
who’s partial likeness spectacles
the man, i use to be.

jonathan j ames