Fossils in our bed, furcula
in throat, splayed a drowning
lest we know; ancient hibernations
anamnesis ribcaged
rigor mortis yawning; poisoned waves
beneath the creel and sects of
our darkened sleep
zeppelins
on triptych plains; a fear of water
and people; the surf rattles
in damp winter.
pet virus
drunk, jumps on each leg
like around the skull
of a tree; we choke
on wishbones, we can’t outlast.
© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
First published in Volume Eight, Chapter 1 in Visual Verse Anthologies.
Congratulations on your publication and a darkly wonderful poem!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Ingrid. ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Amazing Poem! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your welcome! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Never before have I enjoyed a dark poem like that before O.O
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks!
LikeLike