Seance

You shrive past curfew
Tatting ink ceremoniously
Unto white sheets
Plastering line after
Line
Of inner wisdom
Captured in contorted
Fashion called poetry

You shrive past curfew
A million souls watch
Over you
Speaking dead truth
Into existence
lacing in you
The power of
Shrivelling egos
So seek your souls ear
And hear word
Of stars past spoken