A Song of Red

by Elizabeth Soule

Your sound
sings through the streaked sky
at the end
and the beginning of days.
Through millennia it echoes
throaty, rich and dark
from the spat outline of ancient hands
to the first woven patterns
edging linen shifts
it whispers through ripples of silk
to clothe an emperor
billows in the blood-dyed woollen sails
of adventurers
it hisses through the ground wings
of crushed beetles
throbs in the ache of wounds
to seep subtly through white dressings
sighs behind the sign
of the frontierless cross
and sobs in the griefs
that will the world incarnadine.

Copyright © 2020 Elizabeth Soule


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