first, nor last.

first nor last

beneath the surface of the night

the technical waves

slam and

whiten the wails

of the fingers

of each moon

and tomb; I dreamed

I wanted nothing at all

not the moon and its

ebony rings of blood,

nor the lips of preamble’s breath

to embryo fingers of a crescent moon;

I saw what I wanted

as the sky axes

red dust and bone;

this mouth of

graveyard shifts

and a false dream wed

the beginning of blood

in the eve; the moon should weep

in the midnight

but it’s only us that do;

begat rib

and dust

lithology of seas

under the dusk,

and stardust

through skin and bones

metamorphose a plume

of wing; the moonrise

is dead to no one,

the sun shall die

long after we’ve left

or will die

in red autumn or spring;

the moon’s waxing

the stars

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.


Written for the Go Dog Go Cafe prompt: “Beneath the surface of the night.”


16 thoughts on “first, nor last.

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