à minuit

the boney moon, dragged by hibiscus over the red hills.
Your moth wings baby-rattling the drowning of the stars, the symmetry of our skeletons for asylum; the moon, she finds my darkness by the Katsura leaves. The atramental vagary of her lays in my hands.

psithurism, algedonic to the death strokes when she flutters, how she rises to meet me. I tire to the maniac violets, their ribs exposed in each idiot feather; oh, in their last breaths, does the moon ever glisten? Barefooted to broken glass, the moon cuts my hands as we dance;

she dies a bit more
leave-taking in winter’s breast strokes
drowning in grief.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

Written for the dVerse prompt: Write a haibun that uses the word “moon.”

last flower.

with the last flower, traveled and scrawled from our mind—across the sun. the moon cracks and reddens as death comes to stardust. ebony époque hikes to the yellow tourniquets; and in-utero shells, plasma glass, her eyes are mine;

maniac moon

devours the limb to the stars

clotted in bones/rocks.

I dream between the blood from the womb; nature’s breast and bone; clavicle, ankle bones, alone she is unmisted to the shore, into Autumned dark. I dissociate.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

Written for the dVerse prompt: “Whatever your pleasure, today, let us write haibun in which we use the word “hike,” alluding to whatever context we find most meaningful. For those new to haibun, write a prose paragraph or two, followed by a haiku, in which you include a seasonal reference, and a complement of divergent images that provokes insight.”

two of the sea.

sea foam / moonrise / troughs of white petals / revivalist skulls of breath from a blistered wind / I lied on the floor / the window had twig elbows / the ancient fall, I bled white like the ants on the window-ledge.

I tire; tree fingers

tie their umbilical cords

onto the late birds;

field and rocks drum / moth wings / and lettuce-white bugs on the wall / mother, father / are happy / tree and limb / the ocean hides the stars /

am I near death? / I don’t know / mists of the horizon / numb then distractedly entwined / two of the sea; mouth resurrects the waves / the moonrise is red / fingernails whitened by the month / cat eats the trout / eyes reflect / into the child frost / tears snake to the moon / the moon is a child / the moon is dead / boney, the roots / of tree and mouth / happy birthday, darling, we love you / mother, father say / midnight / I count my knuckle bones / and I love them too /

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

Written for the dVerse prompt:

“For this challenge, I ask you to think about your own birthdays, ones from the past, one that is coming up, a memorable one, or one you are dreading. Whether it’s birthday cake and balloons, a quiet glass of wine on your own that turned into something memorable, or a complete disaster, I’d like you to share a birthday with us.

Aim to write no more than three tight paragraphs, followed by a traditional haiku that includes reference to a season.”