Roots.

Drinking from another mismatched
moon-eye
in another, should I have loved,
then only with my garden
should I climb to my roots

vowels sparse like bones
miraculous stone and hair
holding ultima, eating man
to the fuchsia, death of all things,
skin, a dollhouse of nicks.

© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved

Written 2/17/2021



Categories: Poetry

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

7 replies

  1. Wow. Amazing technique in writing. I had to read twice to even fathom the meaning of this piece and I think even that wasn’t enough. Why haven’t I seen you before on my feed? He he.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. That was beautiful, Lucy. I love the imagery and the surging rhythm. Well done!

    Liked by 2 people

  3. This poem is so good. It squeezed my heart and makes me ache in memory of lovers in my past that should never have been. Awesome final line!

    Liked by 2 people

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