Bobbing pigtails cocoon,
shrink-wrap the toddler
kneeling on a cold basement floor,
constrict, smaller and smaller
until she segments, earthworm thin,
wriggles between his bare knees,
escapes into the plush lawn
to burrow between their houses—free.

The crack of leather against soft flesh
weaves a raised scarlet gambeson,
cushion for the next whisper
of his belt’s unsheathing—
a base layer of resilience,
its thick, coarse wool
numbing the jounce as life’s stiff saddle
gallops through the castle gate.

Rows of granite molars
glisten, crowd the mouth of Hope
and behind lips of autumn grass,
a dark earthen tongue craves
satin-lined black enamel rest;
snap! the flounce of a daughter’s skirt,
caught, wears against stone teeth,
frays to nothing over time.

Dark feathers flash-dive, screeching,
talons poised to shred,
claim the exposed flesh of a mother’s heart—
fragile, beat depolarized—
sink instead into a bedside prayer,
flex against antiseptic days, wings frantic,
until, drained, worn thin by hunger,
they ascend to hunt another soul.

These places lie in the shadows now—
petals pressed to dirt, scars incorporated
into the bark of becoming,
an unseen root anchoring past to present
among the long-buried bones of soul raptors—
and a weighty trunk branches,
thins into breath on the wind—
filter for the breaking dawn.

Style Score: 75