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The Thorn

The Thorn / Michael Kwack


It seemed a big bird had flown;

For, onto the desk of my own,

A feather was falling,

Through the air fluttering.


As if in a dream did I gaze:

A tiny bird it was!


I stretched an arm,

And the bird got on my palm.

The whole body, in bright gold,

Was the wing of this bird.


Should I hold it on my palm?

Let it go afloat in...

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far end of the graveyard

cant find it for tall weeds

but why did I come here?

thorn pricks, leg bleeds


this grass needs cutting

Billy always was a liar

there's daffodils dead

more blood from a briar


should have put on a coat

hurt me when he strayed

its starting to snow again

not only me he betrayed


trips on a trailing bramble

marble knocks her ...

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straysgraveyardweedsthornbleedssnowmarbleboxescare home

Thorn in her side

She drifted in and out of view

passing from gossamer to stone,

floating and then, sinking down low,

singing the words you wrote for her,

the sound now a sick cacophony

mocking your emotions,

stabbing at your heart.

Holding the now faded rose

that you had pinned in her hair,

but truly, a thorn in her side

had been your gift to her,

the beautiful bloom

was invisib...

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