©2021 Michael Raven
lacuna
the dark soul space
a night sit silence
filled with bruises
blood-red wine
and broken
stem glasses crystal
[the hum of the freeway traffic
a mile or so away
carried by the humidity]
these cuts are mine
washed in water
with the stream rags
cailleach in her
cackles craving
points her bone and
a'scrying
predicts the time of...
sceadugenga 
Wow! You need to get this one published, man.
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I’m not sure anyone would accept it. I’ll think about it. I’ve been away from the whole idea of publication in general for years now, I’m not sure even how to go about it these days.
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