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The street.

By on • ( 20 ) 

an opus eye
a moon in the hood of 
a rose, my hibernation 
once every few 
weeks;

if I wake,
an eye cracks; many stones
and cold-blooded trees
what a thrill
I know it’s in the wind
if I shame the childless snakes
in my bed. Opus rubies split along
The street.

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Categories: Prose

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20 replies

  1. Nick Pipitone
    February 17, 2021 • 8:24 am

    Awesome! I just read a couple of collections of poetry by Margaret Atwood. It just occurred to me that your poetry reminds me of hers. Have you ever read her poetry?

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply ↓
  2. Masa
    February 17, 2021 • 8:28 am

    There’s a dreamy quality to this that eludes my grasp. I feel like I’m witnessing blood mixing in water, taking in the odd, haunting shapes that my mind, in its desperation, tries to make sense of.

    While I am often displeased by people who oversimplify the creative process and claim poetry is merely the outpouring of emotion into language, I find that when done well, it feels exactly that – and there’s nothing simple about it.

    Liked by 3 people

    Reply ↓
    • Lucy
      February 17, 2021 • 11:21 am

      Thank you so very much, Masa. I get similar mental imagery, diffusing then submerging. I agree with you greatly on the creative process; done well, yes, but it takes a lot of emotion to sort through, tweak just right, and then poetry says, “No. Do it again.”

      At least, that’s my view. 😁

      Like

      Reply ↓
  3. yassy
    February 17, 2021 • 10:02 am

    Epic brilliant piece of writing ✍️

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply ↓
  4. redbear
    February 17, 2021 • 4:38 pm

    “a moon in the hood of
    a rose” – I like that

    Liked by 3 people

    Reply ↓
  5. abigfatcanofworms
    February 17, 2021 • 8:15 pm

    I was about to say the same thing as redbear. What a great image! And I like an opus eye. Opus sounds optical but my main knowledge of it is musical so it sends my mind skittering.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply ↓

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