[Richard G]

.
And Sharpened is a Knife


The owl-light ebbed and from the mist
an axeman came and stood
beside the bed in which lay Jack
and, crouching, spilt his blood.

A sickle moon, all spectre pale,
was slicing through the trees.
An impish voice, like Spring, implored,
"O, can I? Can I? Please."

A vixen in the hedgerow sniffed
the darkness on the wind.
The axeman and his shadow left
an empty patch behind.

A garden path, and here a house
illumined, full of life,
where Jack is on a table set
and sharpened is a knife.

*

Before the plough and palisade,
beneath the Samhain sun,
against the Ceaseless Trespass rang
a dreadful malison:

To scathe the Axe the dead may stir
if they are given eyes
and into them is carved a mouth
and all their heart's excised.

*

The grey dawn talks of accidents
and not of something worse –
a pan forgot, a candle tipped;
unspoken is the Curse

that caused a riven grin to gape
and then, with fire, exclaim
as murdered Jack from Death returned
to scream a scream of flame

that lit the door, that raced the stairs,
that danced across the thatch.
A home become a sepulchre.
The neighbours made to watch.

*

Before the Age of Stone and Iron,
before the Knowing waned –
the Warning Songs were plucked and sung.
Their music scarce remains.

Around the hearth, amidst the feast,
the jangle and the rush,
will Jack be waiting, with a smile,
to burn a world to ash.


_________________

S3 was
As, trembling, a vixen sniffed
the darkness on the wind,
the axeman and his shadow left
an empty patch behind.

S7 was

The grey dawn talks of accidents
and not of fey amerce –
a pan forgot, a candle tipped;
unspoken is the Curse





.