“Crosses Bared”
Friend of doubt,
deliver us from schools of fish
fly on the wall of a paper hate wail
nails and through trails
the whales of night for you down enough
to be forgotten in ribbons of lies
haven hopes for a courageous scourge
a bite for your windowsill
the monster in the breath
of your collarbones’ emerald necklace,
says the ghost by the windowsill
pennies of pain, cracked light
to hover above, see through chinks the sawdust, will fight for your craven death,
a dear in the horse pasture to love you
in a field smelling of marshmallows,
a harsh moonlight bells echo
time and undressed universes
will make gods of the ghosts
bowed down low enough
to breathe through a rising.
nicholauspatnaude 
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