will I drown? the wind twists, and we kiss the flowers; seize the backbone of the root, where our blood is ours. the tree trunk can’t see death; unparalleled, my father disintegrates. the sunsets are claret as they burst. the glass region, eyed by the ants, flourishes in the light by remembering; eyes, pressing to… Read More nothing left.
at mind’s end, the winter sets the dawn, coffee and creamer, while the silent encroachment blossoms in the ripe mist. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.