the dying game.

with summons,
I sit alone; I was tired of my penetralium
and id frozen in aureoled chokes,
harassing me to the shadows; 

each eye abstract, to the phantom 
of stone; I snipped my garden bones
of the rose-beds, felt the hidden 
moon into the thorns, a baby’s opus,
the dying game.

© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.


Categories: Prose

Tags: , , , , , , ,

11 replies

  1. Not alone you shall walk nor die.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. “each eye abstract..” gorgeous.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. Your depiction of death and the atmosphere it triggers resonates metaphorically in the poem. So moving, creating a sense of anxiety. Great piece Lucy!

    Liked by 1 person

Trackbacks

  1. the dying game. – Lily M Snow
  2. Lifestyle/ the dying game. – The Urban Fishing Pole: Cigar Blogger, Lifestyle

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: