Petrified, my heart
Refuses your vain entreaties
Deny the charm of your
Silver-plated words
Which do insinuate
Like cold serpents.
Give me your kiss of sin
So I may spit the poison
Into the well of your being
Which I devour —
A rapacious beast.

Stone Sentry

Stone Lion

In the tingling cold
The lion’s mane
Grows large and bold
Coated by a gentle snow
His stone façade
Becomes a show
Of tranquil night
And calming deep
A vigilant guard, at last



If spring follows winter
Then your eyes are the height of summer
And your lips only promise song.
Even your barbs are tender and blunted.
In anger, I still find the vulnerable shaking
Of a compassionate, easily-bruised heart
Which I once wrapped myself in on a cold, lonesome night.