Poetry: Selections from B F Jones

We are 

The trapped souls 
Of long ago prisoners 
Molten from century-old 
Scribbled on mouldy walls 
We scream invisible 
Piled in cell corners 
We cry tarnished 
For a destiny that wasn’t 
We eye bright metal blades
Blood rill 
Soon swallowed into the ground. 

Down the cellar 

There’s crying 
Screaming echoed
Travelling up the stairs 
Losing power 
With every step 
And reaching them 
In quiet washed down 
Moans and miaows.
They stop and listen 
For a moment 
Eyebrows creased
Necks tilted.
They shake their heads 
Raise their shoulders 
And get on with their 
Ordinary lives.

B F Jones is French and lives in the UK. She is co-editor of Punk Noir Magazine and she also writes poetry and flash fiction. Her debut poetry collection, The Only Sounds Left, and her flash fiction collection, Artifice are both published by The Alien Buddha and available on Amazon.


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