my son of hours

I take you from this barren ground
decaying flower
dying ember
starving child,
my son of hours.

And hold you to my empty breast
waiting for your hand to free my finger.
But you cling to this moment
as if it had a future.

Go now little one
there’s nothing to eat if you stay
except these saltless tears
so pointless now
I rarely find the time to bleed.


I have clouds in my brain,
that choke my heart
now that we are apart.

And if the yellow sun does not rise I will smile
knowing I am free from its heat for a while.

Juke of Flow