COAL-DUST BAPTISM
- Dark Poets Club

- Sep 3
- 1 min read
By M.M.Wake

I buried my name in coal-dust soil,
fed it rainwater and grief.
Roots coiled round my marrow,
petals pressed prayers to a tin sky.
Even in the black,
something grows.
A mouth of green,
whispering: you lived,
you stubborn,
beautiful thing.



