ride me of this awful frame
wander from atop this pyre
quivering doe you wrapped her in damp cloth and sang
"i bring only what the jackals left in their dens"
splintering bone, dried husks, and torn rinds
wilting with the lie of fertility
steadfast as nothing the well dries the stones crack
i dig and dig
our garden lies barren your gown torn in ashes
but a bleeding bed remains
a lantern left upon your sill
the night was long i could not stay
a tired mare with broken hooves
i could not love you in the ashen light of morning
when the new day avows
the harsh metals of our graying features
and the disparate mounds where you buried the last
when the new snow is shed
do not tread upon it
Polish noise-crust outfit eschews the big Tragedy-esque riffs still popular with their US counterparts for scratchy claustrophobia. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 2, 2016