It all went limp —
the bags, the cobwebs, the rain.
even the chains — even the chains,
draped loose as curtains, brush the floor.
Even the gray stain on the pillow slipped
a bit before pausing, the hinge unhung the door.
And all the several fibrous hums —
the fridge, the gripe, the train, the pipe —
an octave lower than before.
What then must all this madness claim,
to comb distrust’s distressing mane,
flowed as garland, flowed as pain,
upon the head, along the vein.
Come want, come spleen and in between
such vaults in hollow echo run,
as moss to cypress drag and preen
to cut a flickered ravaged sun.
Sweet and Bitter Greens 
Wow. What a treat to read this poem. Rarely do I go to a blog and on the first poem I read, know I need to follow that person’s work. I love the construction, word choice and metaphors. Brilliant.
Thank you so very much.
D
You’re very welcome. I look forward to reading more of your work.
I look forward to diving into your work as well.
D
This is brilliant!
Thank you very much. D
You are welcome.
It’s all so gooood, but your title…. LOVE IT.
Thank you. I do appreciate it. D
Hi Devon. Strange times these. I like the way you save epithets (adjectives) to the last line – flickered ravaged sun!
Write on friend and stay safe
John
Hello John! and thank you. This isolation is crazy on the head, mate. I hope you are well. Stay safe and yes, John – write on!
D
Powerful poem. I’ve nominated you for an award. Please do check my blog for more information.❤️
Will do, and thank you. D