Put to death I was no longer a daughter of the other— I buried myself in the digital pillow then the real one leaving me open. White like bone, my body will be buried in the bathtub of the garden; painted red, love goes mad in cuts of my family. Dead roses in my mouth rise born long before I spoke a word of this put to death, last night I dreamt a kiss as good as snow white swarming wrens above our hair, undid in bodies I beat down my bones into the dirt the bones that begged for rest. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Written for the 7/05/2021 Earthweal prompt:
For this challenge, let’s celebrate Interdependence Day.
- What does it mean to be a citizen of the world’s weal?
- How is your congress composed? What human and nonhuman orders participate?
- What place is there for dead and lost
- What new orders are there to celebrate?
- What songline describes the interdependent weal?
- What origin story might be told of our transitional time in the centuries to come?
- What does it mean to hope without even understanding what there is to hope for anymore? How is that radical?
These are just a few ideas. Have at your way — you always do …
I wrote for the thought of “What place is there for dead and lost?” My thoughts are first into our heads, then into the ground. It’s an emotional process, and I explore a little bit of grief in this poem. Hope you could enjoy. 🙂