Shrieking Words Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

Shrieking
Words
Shrinking word
There
Were
That
Night
On cusp
Of spring
But still
At
Night
Dark
Mantles
Flowed
Dark
Mantles
Raced
On
Wafted
Mini-winds
Ulysses
Penelope
Helen of Troy…
Dance
And Hector
Dance of the august ghosts…
The
Soul
Is
Hurt
The
Soul
Be
Wounded
In
The
Grave
There
Be
A
Rattling
And
Instability
Of
Un quietness
Though
The Souls
Roam
Letting off nerves
They flit by to and fro
For
Red
Dusk
Be
Long
Gone
And
Night
Be
Deep
Deep
Sigh
Sigh.