GHOSTLY GIBBIT --- HUNG THE DAY

Drift with me through the 1690s
past the thin cracked glass
framed in split brown edge
across a crunching sea of imported gravel
into a dense sight of forest
onto the small path laid by times visited step
travel in its low mist
which clings as voices rejoice in past conversation
tread as strong as your heart can beat
feel a darkness in its plague

A story within a story
so we have begun

Suddenly we dream into a large open field
vomited forth from the throat of the forest
no path
no sighted glimpse
or discovered track
burnt brown the grass pleads for our steps
bones break under the light movement
wailing tears tumble childish in innocence from a clear heaven

halfway  across
stands an ancient gibbet
railed in iron spike
tormented a name written
on brass metal in cold traced finger

a story within a story
repeated
carried
tested times when teenage dares
chains mime my last actions
decomposed in my own attraction