I am framed through the hagioscope,

but this is not your prison.

They walled you in with freedom,

and you sang your own death,

and spread pity on all the words that followed.

They all want saving but they’re not yours to save.

One foot embedded in ancient stone,

the other pointed as you rise.

Hand stretched,

finger seeking the benevolent

but He is not there.

They come for saving but don’t need it.

Answers are easy, prayers simple.

Your cellmate is the best response,

the cover for everyone’s eternal exit.

In the dark, you caress it like a lover,

and beat it until your fists bleed.

They all need saving but they won’t be saved.

Teeth fall from your mouth,

your hair lies in tendrils each morning.

They’ve burnt you, dragged you,

bombed you to bits.

You tell me, save yourself,

and turn from the opening

to sit with your gracious friend,

You can’t be saved.

And thank God for that.


Related reads

Stone Cold Toad

Wide-Mouthed Jack

The Ballad of Annie Jeffries

Want to know what I write? Find out more about my books


2 thoughts on “Anchorhold

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: