He gave me books

Bound in bone and vellum

Written in a language he taught me in dreams

Over centuries

Eyes crystalline

Behind a veil of bees

Breathing gasoline for the signal

The pyre that led me home

Dawn sears red

The river is running backward

Acres bleeding dust again

A door yawns wide to nothing

And everything

At night I could see him

Floating through the trees

Scratching at my window

Son of Spoilage

Liege of Winter

I’d glow indigo when I’d hear him coming

Hissing “your mother sleeps, your father is slow

Time to come home”

The choking snow around us

Falling to the ground

The ashes of the family tree

Forked tongue curls over rotting teeth

Spitting curses on the family

Except for me

He took me home