Snowfall in June
The civilised man only has will to conquer himself. –
Anon.
Some nights when the snow is silent
only the moon hisses as it arcs
through the night
cheating moonflower and evening star
into confiding in its magic
But magic alone is not enough
to secure the applecart
or endow the adder with agency
Some nights even the Stix freezes over
giving the snow a chance
to shine bright as Charon’s solitude
caught between ice and fire
in long nights of ferrying and panic
*
Now suppliant and lickspittle move in
for the kill in a bid to steal
obolus from the mouths of the dead –
only to find the Nightbird has flown
proffering snow as a metaphor
for exiting hell
Tangents
Hard to swallow yet another yarn
but you continue to thread the needle
with no lack of imagination
like a man accustomed to telling
the piece-mender
how to mend
as if the string-along
was natural as tying your boot laces
*
Not so much ‘losing the thread’
as ‘losing the plot’
as you spout ancient nothings
about soul science
and the lower fourth dimension
To rid itself of parasites and enable
new growth,
the sidestepping cobra slowly sheds its skin
but do not be fooled
by the sight of one predator leaving
itself defenseless as it eradicates another.
You must always be on your guard
and remember –
even without coiling
to assume the strike position
danger strikes
silently spitting venom without warning.
*
Anyone unfortunate enough to be acquainted
with the hooded menace
might wish to keep a mongoose
at hand to offset any material losses,
prevent further trespass
and send him packing (not before time)
into the dustbin of all your past mistakes.