This the sea, their shadows in madcap deaths; where is the garden beyond the moon, which leaves a ghost that I once knew as myself? I sway between finger and root; small hands desert me in memory
free, I am not the skin
of your lip, tree,
and I am not looking now
to be dead and wink as I’ll see the moon across the flowers and yet with dreams, they are a corking perfume; I would forget from this planet dream. A gleam for a woman unlike the years, I lie in the cruelest despair (not) from my dream, eras nine or more whenever, I’m still there.
© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Written for the dVerse prompt: Write a haibun following the theme of a new beginning or new year.
Seemingly a dark poem, but it’s about my own reflection of letting go from memories and people.