The sea girls.

peyote ripples upon
my father’s hands,
I horde my poems in the melisma
of my bare bones within the arboretum

and the vagary of the moon
she nocturnes this feeling of death;
it’s early winter and the sea girls
wormhole into the sea
to drown;

algorithmic
the mirror purports

I writ my ghosts in the looking glass,
this rite of amnesia, I’ll die in the sea
for I am her child, and she gives me the taste of wine
from the moon’s extinct flower; her last breath abandons
the dance of poison, a maddened marriage
cauled in starlight death
in the early winter, feral, ferried.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.


First featured in Free Verse Revolution’s Sunday Best.

Reposted for the dVerse open link night.




Categories: Prose

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

62 replies

  1. An absolutely stunning piece, and these words captured my imagination…
    “I’ll die in the sea
    for I am her child, and she gives me the taste of wine
    from the moon’s extinct flower; “

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I love, “and the vagary of the moon
    she nocturnes this feeling of death” and
    the whole last stanza is haunting.

    Liked by 4 people

  3. Imagery upon imagery. Great work Lucy. 😍

    Liked by 3 people

  4. ❤️❤️❤️

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Oh my….what a crazy imagery….Line after line….amazing poem, Lucy.

    Liked by 3 people

  6. Definitely gorgeous word choices, phrases even more so ❤️

    Liked by 2 people

  7. Very descriptive very beautiful

    Liked by 2 people

  8. Whoaaa… wild! And beautiful… and yes, imagery upon imagery. Love the first stanza particularly 💛

    Liked by 2 people

  9. Wow, this rendition gave me chills!

    Liked by 2 people

  10. Such a stunning masterpiece! Amazing poem

    Liked by 2 people

  11. They all said it all 👆🏻🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  12. Wow, this is amazing! It’s bare, barren, desolate, desperate and yet so beautiful! How do you do it?

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you, Ingrid. ❤ I’m not sure precisely how I do it, but often I must listen to The Smiths or Morrissey to get into some type of lyrical dark mood. Then I seek poems I’ve enjoyed that provide inspiration and perhaps they even provide a change in my thoughts on the subject.

      Liked by 1 person

  13. This is such a gorgeous poem, Lucy! I love all the labial sounds in, for example, ‘peyote ripples’, ‘melisma of my bare bones within the arboretum’, and ‘maddened marriage’, and the verbalisation of ‘nocturne’. It’s a wonderful myth of the sea girls who ‘wormhole into the sea to drown’, seemingly drunk on the ‘wine from the moon’s extinct flower’.

    Liked by 2 people

  14. You really capture with your words… I feel pulled in by the waves with those girls… but the end… wow… feral ferried

    Liked by 2 people

  15. This makes me think of an ancient myth–maybe I thought of wine-dark sea–but it’s sad and glorious somehow. I love that last stanza is wonderful. I can imagine it spoken aloud, and the last line is especially wonderful. I really like this poem!

    Liked by 3 people

  16. “I writ my ghosts in the looking glass, this rite of amnesia, I’ll die in the sea for I am her child,” … my goodness this is good! Haunting and eerie, it serves as a wonderful catalyst for the onset of November 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  17. I wish I found your page faster I really enjoy what I have found so far 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  18. Strong, captivating, entangling, imagery that grabs and does not let go. Well written Lucy.

    Liked by 2 people

  19. With the peyote and written from the looking glass it sounds like a psychedelic trip to a very strange place.

    Liked by 2 people

  20. Amazing 😍

    Liked by 2 people

  21. Excellent work. I think I’ve been there. I love the idea of stashing poems in skeleton. There are times when they do hold me up like that. Grandfather taught me more than I realize

    Liked by 2 people

  22. Wish we could have “seen” you at the pub last night! So fun to hear Bjorn read your poem though.
    Ah….coming in to the winter season here in Boston….with skeletal-like trees about to appear as they shed their bronze/neon yellow/red-orange attire. I suspect winter is the perfect season for your dark poems, Lucy!
    “she nocturnes this feeling of death;” I like the use of the word “nocturnes” here and your use of the word “caul”. You have a way with words, that’s for sure! 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  23. I enjoyed this, especially how you used ‘writ and rite’ ….. cheers. I arrived too late for the live performances, next time.

    Liked by 2 people

  24. The chill of the winter sea penetrates into the bones. I can feel the pull of both the waves and the moon. (K)

    Liked by 2 people

  25. Stunning piece! Your imagery has a definite Wow factor! Happy Halloween!

    Liked by 1 person

  26. I love the music imagery (I didn’t know there was a name for a string of notes that stretches out a single syllable…I’ll never think of certain Christmas songs the same way again), and the way you turn nocturne and wormhole into verbs. It gives the poem a very surreal tone.

    Liked by 2 people

  27. Enticing. Captured by the use of your words in your poem 🙂 use of ‘alogarithm’, ‘mirror purpots’ have all given a new level and frothiness of mystery.🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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