vessels of blood, of brass (poem 20160522)

the empty vessel
can sing, he said,
running his finger
along the rim
and causing the brass bowl
to hum

but how do you empty
your bones of your
emptiness, i asked

he struck me, then,
and rose, tucking his
silent bowl under his arm
he never returned
and i never heard his
empty vessel
sing again

night song (poem 20160521)

latticework honeycombs
where bees make blood
instead of honey

all the same to vampires

(i’ve wanted to sink my teeth
into the soft skin of your neck
on more than one occasion)

marrow sitting deep
inside singing and humming
i can hear it while you sleep

calling my name
i curl around you
offering warmth in exchange

——

The Daily Post
Daily Prompt: Sing