A Death in April

by Brody Smithwick

They punctured the skin

Of the red grape

To make new wine possible— 

Ripped open

The honeysuckle

So sweet atonement could drip.  

When the Dandelion’s head was crushed,

it roared the loudest. 

His death scattered life into the wind

The Lion’s Blood

In a heart 

Too big for the universe,

The Lion’s blood wells up.

It courses through glorious veins;

Bringing life

To mane 

And tail. 

His noble pulse thrums 

Beneath light-filled fur,

Keeping cadence

With primeval rhythms.

A crimson roar of unchained power;

The lions blood beats

On a ribcage-war-drum.