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.


62 thoughts on “The sea girls.

  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 3 people

    1. 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

  2. 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

  3. 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

  4. “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

  5. 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

  6. 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

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