take my hands?

fingers of earth

lay thy lady of bones

a garden of have died

and have not; shan’t you

take my hands?

my skin, a linen

from the sun weeds, we share

parentheses as eyelids kiss the

sleeping trees;

littleness death

we—the serpents

we sleep with.

© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.



Categories: Poetry

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

8 replies

  1. “littleness death…we—the serpents…we sleep with.”
    That line hits perfectly! Well done! 👏

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Wow Lucy.. I’m speechless. Just beautiful ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  3. ‘A garden of have died and have not’

    An original way of looking at a garden or life in general. Everything is either dead or going to be dead. I like it!

    Liked by 1 person

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