The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Cold as a Furnace Forgotten

As the sullied mask and miasma seep away
Stone hearth reclines in still carbon
Graysky runes under feldspar tarnish lay
Another mote settles into a crevice
Where is the enchanted wake of death?
The needle keeps the slumber swallow at bay
Wrought is the iron hearted countenance
And ray escapes where no radiance dares
A gentle amnesia grips the stay and
clouds the panopticon glare and gleam
in galvanized shadows in ghostly array
a shiver awakens the flight of fight
yet tired sinews bear little weight
and shuck off the tremble of ardor
hardly to stir the furnace fresh
choked by forgotten anthracite 
just handfuls of ash amidst the night.
■





©2024 Mark Daniel Milbocker  All rights reserved.