blackwood poison

take breath amidst the ebony vestiges,

the resonate whisperings of the fallen ones,

for their marbled madness lingers anew

in the charcoaled veins of slick-grained shadows.

speak in that hidden language of the ghosts—

through the echoings of their empty-minded spirits—

to spur bright rebirth in their aching limbs

as the blooming twigs spread in white fullness.

know that no words are too melancholic

for the pitying resin of blackwood poison,

that star-fanged salvation of quaint suicides

before their gentle undoing of soulful being:

its subtle darkness pricks silver redemption

in the dejected sinews of these forgotten masters.