nothing left.

will I drown? the wind twists, and we kiss the flowers; seize the backbone of the root, where our blood is ours. the tree trunk can’t see death;

unparalleled, my father disintegrates. the sunsets are claret as they burst. the glass region, eyed by the ants, flourishes in the light by remembering; eyes, pressing to abandoned wounds in the blood-flow of my poems; i have nothing left to say to you,

like the foreign moon with her breasts,

sunken to asylum

the ashes of Cimmerian tombs, dispatched to the same darkness we see. there is an absence of the black violets, where only dreams are the entryway to my subconscious; self-portraits of my mind. 

the moon bled 

and death retraces memories

this person they no longer know; the woman who is myself. poking like the worm, 

“in their dreams
they sleep with the moon.”

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.


Written for the dVerse prompt: Write a piece of flash fiction or other prose of up to or exactly 144 words, including the given line, “In their dreams
they sleep with the moon.”–From Mary Oliver, “Death at Wind River”.


  46 comments for “nothing left.

  1. September 14, 2020 at 3:52 pm

    Beautiful! I love how you use human emotions and substances (tears and blood) and apply them to nature and objects. It’s all so cleverly crafted and it flows smoothly 👌

    Liked by 2 people

  2. sanaarizvi
    September 14, 2020 at 3:55 pm

    Love this especially; “there is an absence of the black violets, where only dreams are the entryway to my subconscious; self-portraits of my mind.” Your use of imagery never ceases to amaze me! 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

    • September 14, 2020 at 5:35 pm

      Aww, thank you so much! I’m so glad you enjoyed those lines and I am elated by your words. Thank you again.

      Like

  3. September 14, 2020 at 4:00 pm

    Your imagery of darkness works so well with the Quote… maybe it’s only in the dreams it’s possible to find solace.

    Liked by 1 person

    • September 14, 2020 at 5:36 pm

      Thank you, Björn. Dreams can be an escape or they can be a mirror of nightmares. I find it goes both ways.

      Like

  4. September 14, 2020 at 4:06 pm

    I was tempted to try and work out what this means, but gave up. I do like the absence of black violets 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

    • September 14, 2020 at 5:38 pm

      Hahaha. I don’t think I make it easy, right? 😁 Very happy you like the imagery in that line, though.

      So, for the meaning, the ideas I had in mind were change. People change, and sometimes recognizing it in yourself can be a powerful, if not dissociating, experience.

      Like

  5. September 14, 2020 at 4:07 pm

    Such beautiful, if dark, imagery. It’s like being in the middle of a fantasy.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. September 14, 2020 at 4:10 pm

    A fantastic write
    Happy Monday

    Much💛love

    Liked by 2 people

  7. September 14, 2020 at 4:15 pm

    I enjoyed the darkness of this piece, Lucy, the personification of a flower with a backbone of root and a tree trunk that can’t see death, the zoomorphism of a woman poking like a worm, the claret sunrises, and the phrase ‘abandoned wounds in the blood-flow of my poems’. And I want to know why there is an ‘absence of the black violets’ – what happened to them?

    Liked by 1 person

    • September 14, 2020 at 5:43 pm

      Thank you so much, Kim. I’m ecstatic you enjoyed the imagery in this piece. Now, as for that line, I do not particularly remember what I had in mind for it. The essence of the poem is about change and not recognizing yourself for the better, while all the same, you can find things or people that try to reflect the person you once were. It is there that one realizes that they are different and no longer the same.

      The absence of black violets can be just that. Something evolved within the subject of the poem. They’ve left those violets behind, and those flowers turned black; wilted, dying. That part of the individual is dead and left to the past. But, it is for the better.

      Thank you again for your lovely comment and feedback. It’s much appreciated. ❤ ❤

      Liked by 1 person

      • September 15, 2020 at 2:23 am

        You’re more than welcome, Lucy. I enjoy reading your work.

        Liked by 1 person

  8. J.SYS
    September 14, 2020 at 4:24 pm

    “the tree trunk can’t see death” 💛💕💓

    Liked by 2 people

  9. September 14, 2020 at 5:00 pm

    Reminds me of 1st Corinthians, “when I was a child I spake as a child, but I put away childish things” (paraphrasing)
    “this person they no longer know; the woman who is myself.”

    Liked by 1 person

    • September 14, 2020 at 5:46 pm

      That’s a fantastic and in-depth quote. It kind of summarizes what I intended for this prose-piece, overall. Thank you so much for your thoughts as well. Always appreciated!

      Liked by 2 people

  10. September 14, 2020 at 6:32 pm

    Awesome work, Lucy. I esp like ‘sunken to asylum’

    Liked by 1 person

    • September 14, 2020 at 6:54 pm

      Thank you! ☺️

      Like

  11. September 14, 2020 at 6:59 pm

    change is challenging and loved ones will always try to press our buttons expecting/wanting the reassurance of previous reactions … yet when we truly change that pattern will reformat …

    Liked by 1 person

    • September 14, 2020 at 7:54 pm

      Indeed. Only we can break the cycle. Thank you for reading. 💕

      Liked by 1 person

  12. September 14, 2020 at 8:26 pm

    I love the description of your demise…. first of us viewing you …. eyes, pressing to abandoned wounds in the blood-flow of my poems…
    and then… to the fact that you never leave us…. the woman who is myself. poking like the worm,

    in their (our) dreams
    they sleep with the moon.

    Liked by 1 person

    • September 14, 2020 at 8:55 pm

      A very intriguing interpretation from those lines. Thank you so much for your feedback and comment, Dwight. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  13. Glenn A. Buttkus
    September 14, 2020 at 10:01 pm

    Your inimitable style still rules; many fine lines and wordsmithing. Somehow it creates alacrity regarding our mortality; liked it.

    Liked by 2 people

    • September 14, 2020 at 11:09 pm

      Thank you, Glenn!

      Like

  14. September 14, 2020 at 10:44 pm

    The imagery was divine. I am glad I read your response to Kim to help me better see where you were going with this (which confirmed what I thought I had understood!)

    Liked by 1 person

    • September 14, 2020 at 11:10 pm

      Thank you so very much, Dale. So glad you enjoyed this piece. ❤ ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  15. September 15, 2020 at 11:01 am

    Grief and loss come from this for me, and the disorientation that goes with it, poignant, dark and real.

    Liked by 1 person

  16. September 15, 2020 at 1:18 pm

    Dark, delightful, and wise Lucy — excellent writing!

    Liked by 2 people

    • September 15, 2020 at 1:28 pm

      Thank you, Rob!

      Like

  17. September 15, 2020 at 3:54 pm

    Exceptional writing, Lucy. I love “there is an absence of the black violets, where only dreams are the entryway to my subconscious; self-portraits of my mind.” So gorgeous! 🖤

    Liked by 3 people

  18. October 22, 2020 at 2:09 am

    The use of metaphors, even more, personification is exceptional in all your work. Beautiful. It’s great to have someone to learn something so beautiful. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  19. Way Words by Sterling
    October 22, 2020 at 10:54 am

    Very dark and blood-filled. Speaks to me of death, loss and isolation. Is the glass region you speak of in France, along with the claret? Just wondered.

    Like

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