Good Friday


Good Friday

beat a million micro-tiny hearts a-ticking for the rising
up of spring newjuice, cells breathing their old time signature
in dense yet springy  yeasty seasoning of mould dough

in skyblues ortolans defy  gravity and the tense wracking
nets to escape with such starfire rectitude that trappers gape
understanding the symbol of their denoument

the fleshly wound

By word-deed I made the birds escape
instead of the pulpit droning remit
Of loving freedom by devouring it.


Veronica Aldous 2016 All rights reserved


About Veronica Aldous

Writer and artist, Veronica is a lecturer is Fine Art and Creative Writing. Her first book of poems, 'Moon Cinema' is now available on Now there is also 'Mortal' her second book.
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