summer, pilgrimage of the ewe; the blood sun breaks upon death— is the symmetry of the flower where an ocean throws the moon’s noose, leaving to the knot of a darker azure? dream, and you might too leave in the white rose of lips; sewn a monolith exchanging, in perfidy, a child at the river its maddening leavetaking, tucked in the shawl, a fellness of gold nursed at the fingertips dead and drowning, for the illumine, like a dream, but it was no longer; memory was the brass to the black heart of the rose, low-necked to mourn. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Written for the dVerse prompt, using lines from Dorothy Lawrenson’s poem September. Truth be told, this is most likely one of my darkest poems, taking heavy inspiration from This Night Has Opened My Eyes by The Smiths.