Late Moon (Ft. Devika).

It happened again 
the dead sea full of dried emotions 
and the charm to write about withering winters 
happened again, 
from my arms to my toe nails 
with colors and with a paint- brush 
the knuckles are red due to migraine, 
the bosoms are sagging due to age. 
The concept of time throws my memory into a massive ocean 
of sins/ fears/ aches. 
And I think of myself as a soft folktale, 
lost somewhere, 
occurring due to occult or a greasy lovemaking. 
I count the days back and front 
to defy the mouth in exasperation 
to write about the shivering body. 
Madness is what keeps my soul intact, 
I can talk to my mind for longer hours often 
with dead bumblebees right beside me, 
here- with leaves falling upon my chest 
my mahogany textured hair 
clinging to a sad tree.    (Devika) 

If this is bliss, 
please don’t leave; silhouettes 
played by sculptural midnights 
is a song and dance 
of memory; the opus rises like god's rainwater 
of tragedy and embrace— 
it entrances my bones kneed into pride 
like a strange dream; a legacy of my footing 
in the stone, I saw it today in the past 
to defy the orgasmic cult, prime and prime shadows 
in the back of my mind, 
as messianic blood drops 
from my feet 
it had crushed the late moon 
on its garden bed, 
almost thieving the sleeping bear 
mentioned for its own season; 
the eucalyptus wilts 
in my asylumned winter, the violence within my dreams 
and the uncoiled warmth of the thorn 
into my side, claws into my first 
breath.                        (Lucy) 

© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved and My Valiant Soul.

It was an honor collaborating with Devika of My Valiant Soul on this piece; it brought back some spirit in my writing after taking a poetry hiatus. As well, please be sure to check out her site and see more of her amazing and wondrous work. Thank you for reading our collaborative piece.

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20 Comments

  1. Beautiful! I really liked the religious imagery.

    as messianic blood drops
    from my feet
    it had crushed the late moon
    on its garden bed

    For some reason, this made me think of the Garden of Gethsamane.

    Thanks for sharing!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I love these two excerpts guys… yep .. I’m dreamtime Aussie..
    “And I think of myself as a soft folktale,
    lost somewhere, ”

    “the eucalyptus wilts
    in my asylumned winter, the violence within my dreams “

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Emotion and encouragement to examine are two things that help me fall deeply into a poem. This had both in spades, all the way from start to end. Thank you for sharing. ♥

    Liked by 1 person

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