she loves you.

vanish.trade.rocks.

Albert Memorial, London SW7 2ET, UK.

in sanguinolent dances we trade
our flowers for knots of the moon,
cracking until the leftover asylum of poetry
turns and explodes in our veins,

Let it be the tongue of rocks, where
serenity will kiss you in due time
and frozen fingers wed in the plow of the womb,
floating, innocent of madness, the moon,

she turns an ewe red in the light,
child-like, vanishing in the delirium
death of glass thorns under the lips of
an abattoir. She will kiss you once, though mourning.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.


Written for the dVerse prompt: Using the 3 word combos, all you have to do is choose one of them and write a poem 3 – 12 lines long.


midnight.

The moon is bitten / like the apple

under the bleats of the corvid / the enceinte tree

my pentrailium / shuts the black heart of lilies 

do not find me, I want to be alone before I leave.

the moon / satsuma hills and mouthfuls of the noose

lay bare and wrest like a baby’s fingers / digits pass

between my hands, a discoid / a discomfort

I know too well. I see your body of glass,

And I’m stranded / like the white worms

in the soil, all tossing in the dirt

with restless leg syndrome; I only

retain a monolith of grief; desert

me now. I tell the moon / to turn away;

the bud of her breast / I’m alone,

I drank the jicama roots of grief

as I turn to leave your stone.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.


Come, join us. I am guest-tending the bar over at dVerse for poetics today. The theme is dark, dark, dark in the form of a ballad.


Shadowed Skies That Plum.

Shadowed skies that plum.
The heart of infants, a strum,
Moved through bristles of walking wind
Kissed the small valley dell,
And I’d dwell through lonesome seas.
I missed the dead tribunal moon,
As it gazed above some deaf winds;

Slipped through the river stream,
With instant buds of a morning desire,
And I’d wake to see the silver stars
And know that it was too late tonight;
I didn’t want to miss it, yet I did
Through the beats of the humming drips
Coursed through thin wax of combs,

Another moment, the strike of day,
Collapses at the dawn—early and rendering
The core of natural voices in the skies,
And no more dreams, they are,
And I’d see the moon gaze anyway,
What an object of light, and its rays
Reach me beyond the breath of dead of night,

The stream of rivers made their way,
And I’d never know it, but it sang the course
And it was away, a lustrous wash—clean,
To be slept away in the lonesome sea
And with love. The darkened sea was alone
And with the gleams from stars and they’d expire,
With light to share in the silver sea of moon-tides;

Shadowed skies that plum
The heart of infants, a strum,
Moved through bristles of walking wind
Kissed the dell once a moment,
And I’d dwell through lonesome seas.
I missed the dead tribunal moon,
As it gazed above some deaf winds.

© 2019 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.