Scratch and feather,
bound to dawn,
my throat for alarm,
not revelation.
Courtyard crowd and smoke.
A man alone,
less rock than flesh.
Three denials,
each against the light.
I did not mean accusatiion,
but the hour forced it,
my cry broke the day,
a blade through twilight.
Remembrance and tears.
I was only a rooster,
bound to dawn.
But the whole day hung
on my voice’s slash.
Poetry
These poems are moments pulled from the folds of everyday life, memory, myth and imagination. They are invitations to pause, to notice, and to enter the spaces between words.
One written each day.
Some days are a prick.
Some are a blessing.
Thorn and Benediction.
My main social presence is at Wordpress.
https://dhjervis.xyz/
I would be delighted to connect with you there.
Thorn and Benediction 
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