to grief.

bare-bones / wed to abandoning in-utero
fingers; the apple bursts
like an appendix / and the sea
breast to breast / is a mistress
to the Kalahari sun
/ mouthing /
to my moon
“death goes to the worms” / alien touch / my love has gone /
threnody and dream,

as if the Earth is glass /
stranded / to the ghosts /
of ourselves / this is the body
of sand / my love
is soon gone to / plasma
/ in the lights / 

threnody and dying
the sea is an insomniac
maniac / to the glassy
violets / and stargazer flowers
spawning on an inch of Autumn 

death; stroke the worms’ gut
death feeds them well when we’re
eventually gone /

I tire to grief / alien touch / I withdraw from / the moon’s fingertips /
for my love has gone.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.


Written for the August Prompt #2 for Free Verse Revolution.

Reposted for the dVerse open link night.


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60 Comments

  1. Mystically fantastic, and mythically dramatic, with an exquisitely powerful finale….superb…

    “I tire to grief / alien touch / I withdraw from / the moon’s fingertips /
    for my love has gone”

    Liked by 4 people

  2. I fell in love, once. I cannot do it, again. Why? It’s because I would rather die, without her. On my blog, 1,000+ poems are in dedication to her, and only her. Grief is a factor for my own death, were I to eclipse her from my heart.

    I understand grief. I am so cruel as to say I’d be happy losing anyone else, over her. I fell in love, not to live, though to remind myself I am sunken, if she is, too. I would rather die, if I cannot swim to her, in whatever ocean we both dwell in. I would rather sink, if she sinks, rather than call myself the failure by living in that disgrace.

    She is everything. My all. My wholeness. My completion.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Threnody and dying
the sea is an insomniac
maniac / to the glassy
violets / and stargazer flowers

    Really loved this stanza. Wonderful flow and imagery!
spawning on an inch of Autumn 

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Amazing layout and use of punctuation, Lucy, and I too love the way you wove the sea into the threnody. I was blown away by the surprising simile: ‘the apple bursts like an appendix’ and the lines:
    ‘as if the Earth is glass /
    stranded / to the ghosts /
    of ourselves / this is the body
    of sand’
    and
    ‘the sea is an insomniac
    maniac’.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Grief is a deity here, and the poem is a prayer — humbled and in awe of grief’s immense breadth and depth in the heart. It is breathless and near-silent and jagged (those line breaks leaping and mashing in their own lines!) and fulsome — a wildness which is exhausting to the broken heart. A ghosting. A dirge. It might be holy too, but not now, not yet. Amen.

    Liked by 1 person

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