Jordan Roberts

Cherry sky drains blood       

from the boy who sits alone.

Rain turns skin to wax.

 

His rain wings dance and

thunder rolls around his back.

His veins fill with mud.

 

Streams of wax skin drip,

blood spits from melted lips and

the sky swallows him.                                    

In cage of rose thorns,

chains tear at his bloodied back,

where once there were wings.