four and twenty blackbirds

by Allister Nelson

The poison-maker lowers draughts into bubbling blue,

inky black like the dead men’s coves in Styx’s sea,

his hair coils like Dionysus in locks braided with secrets.

I have in my hands a string of bloody teeth.

Gums bleeding, I surrender to Python’s bite.

Raven rises from the bubbling concoction,

foul-winged and downy-chested with rain –

acid drips on the horizon.

I am lost in the Dreaming.

Apollon Poison-Maker

ate my heart.

We dance in ash and madmen.

‘

Skin charred, I roast . for the . king.

Click here to read Allister’s bio.