Dangerous Things

by Renwick Berchild

Chitin dreams are shredded under foot, and scars
With crooked knees slowly make their way down the road.

Limping, with coat collars pulled high to cover up their chins,
Their lips, their delicate seeds of hope they keep balanced

Upon the palm of their tongues, so they continue.

I imagine them
As bowls of darkness,
Cradling fireflies in their wombs, bright pearls resting on a shadow’s nape.

The lightning floats over the black sea,
Flickering in time to the rhythms making way;

Several moons ago blood spewed out of a man’s head by my apartment
And painted the sidewalk, shining sleek as ice.

Chitin dreams are trodden on,
Whilst bullets grow wings.

9 Responses to “Dangerous Things”

  1. A powerful poem. I don’t know if you read about my project of putting together a collection of ‘Voices for the Voiceless’ by a variety of poets writing on Word Press. Your poem would fit in very nicely, partly for what it does not say, partly for what it does. I really like your poem! Let me know what you think about letting me include it . . .

    • I have not heard! But I would love to be a part. You have my full permission to include this piece, as long as I am given the proper credit, to which, I can’t imagine anything else happening. Thank you for letting me know! If you need anything please feel free to ask, whether on this thread, or, simply email me at my contact listed on my blog, at http://www.larkspurhorne.net

  2. WOW! That’s quite the spectacular imagery, and emotional, expressive conveyances there.


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