The moon on her dress
corruscates my fingers with
cobalt shards of icebergs,
rolling fingerprints beyond fabric
Tidal hair breaches the
breakers down her back,
the last waterfall on earth
weeps for every desire lost at sea
Catching the pearls of her eyes
in trawls of my dilated bleeding,
if this be black bible drowning
may savage Gods deny resuscitation
All one breath,
who will search the world with my eyes
once the carousel has stopped turning
and she is ghostly memory slabs
which lie under cathedral floor
You make me think…
It’s cool, I’m good at it!
I enjoy the complexity of your writes. The vocabulary. The nuanced messages. Even, a word I never knew until you shared it.
So thank you for the enhanced ability of your writes. It makes me stronger by reading them. And enjoying them.
As always, you are too kind Mark. I don’t miss many from DU, but you are definitely on the missed list.
This truly shows your intelligence and talent. Very supernacular.
Ha. I’m loving “supernacular” Sounds a bit like an Oasis song. Thank you A.
I agree with previous commentors on the talent.
I like the analogies presented in this write.
Especially fond of the last stanza…reading this makes me feel like I saw her memories
just before they entombed her under the cathedral floor.
j.
Thank you.