Colin J Korney

The Gory Stone
(poem for Christian)

My heart beats softly, ‘neath the gory stone
covered with turned fodder and fallen leaves of October
the ground is colder, and I lie here, another year older.
My soul fingers at the memories pacing across the page
of thirteen years mis-spent.

Images shadow the lip of my chasm
words pass like a breeze: swift, and soft, then silence
thoughts waver among the living, and the things that fail human
comprehension: lust, and prejudice, then death.

Why do young arms flail me?

How can innocent words slice such a damned cord, as to string me up?

Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, towns, provinces, countries, and nations
the world: cry
The parson’s shovel leans wet against the stones piled ‘neath a crested moon
tracks lead from the arch to an unmarked hole, yet filled.

Shout the epithet, and the world turns colder.
Dawn beget dawn, still none lends an ear to hear the sound of:
feigned laughter,
and the beating,
then silence.