BY JAY WELLER
WHO IS THERE LEFT TO SPEAK TO?
WHEN THE VERY SAINTS HAVE COME UNDONE
AMID THE CRUMBLING OF THE STEEPLES
LEFT ALONE AND WITH NO ONE
TO EACH AND EVERY CREATURE
TO LIVE AND DIE BY THINE OWN WILL BE DONE
WHEN CONFRONTED BY THE BEAST, SIR
BEST TO DIE WITH YOUR OWN BOOTS ON
THE HARD NOVEMBER WINTERS GLARE
TALL FROZEN PINES CAPTURE THE SUN
COME THE COLD EYE REAPER’S ETERNAL STARE
BEST TO DIE WITH YOUR OWN BOOTS ON
ANOTHER DRAWING ON AN EASEL
A FINAL HEART BEAT ECHOS ON
AMID THE RUBBLE OF THE STEEPLES
BEST TO DIE WITH YOUR OWN BOOTS ON