An Omen Dire -- by File

-

An omen dire in the dark palm of night

An acid truth, an open wound of light


The furnace clouds and gory shrouds, the blood

In bloom in milk and silent lava floods


A burning whisper scorching raw our ears

A rusted mirror warning us of wars


Of rape and tainted pearls, of tannic mouths

And abattoirs awash with severed vows


Of tortured saints, the violence of stars

We watched the moon annexed by Mars

-