a daughter starless.

A sun recoils to the grown tree
climbing my skin, then vanishing
between the moon and death’s stigmata,

a midnight
starless

to the placenta back to the moon’s
who was first still
but then stares as if a daughter

I am not Lazarus
I do not rise.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.



Categories: Poetry

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

4 replies

  1. This is incredible. I especially love those first three lines. You are brilliantly imaginative. I study the sky like this every day/night, usually equating it with some dessert, in haiku-ish form. 🙂

    I got “mango sunset” shower gel for Christmas—a name I instantly fell in love with.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. The description of the sky here is painting a beautiful picture, I love it 😃

    Liked by 2 people

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