Poetry

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By

Rick Davis

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Unhuman forms.

Hands tangled

with nets and knives.

Skilled to disguise.

Souls sealed with

mud and dirt

they walk in shadow –

years of whispering,

and loneliness,

plotting rage

day by day.

They wait for their

demonic bride,

praying intoxicated prayers

they reside on a ridge

of swiftly blackening hills.

The world lies still

and face down

in their coarse stubble.

Sorrow.

Rick Davis

Rick (Richard) Davis is married and lives in the Logan Square neighborhood of Chicago with his wife. He graduated from Northeastern Illinois University, and has completed several graduate programs. He has published over 600 poems.