Wind blows forcibly: the leaves scratch and pierce the crowning night / their underbellies a thousand infantile faces: in fear, in scream, in disbelief
Funeral in a matchbox: burying a body / leaded glass wings : and the burning gas / a star’s inferno mirrored in flightless wings
Sail: bare feet atop broken glass / green muddy hills / punctured flesh and blood: running, speed, grappling earth with each slip: the horizon and spreading arms out wide: rising, soaring, linen ghosts singing: a gossamer bed of cello strings and breathless lips that hover the cold kiss of stone lips
Funeral rites: risen in the moonlight: sacrificed / an offering to clock-working eyes: naked, burning, forging / the blood runs down my legs: a stag’s eight points shatter, gore my pelvis / death is morning glories vining, unwinding, wringing
Resurrection: maggots, earthworms dismantling ruins: pollinators seeding pheromones: soaking rain, arid sun: the birds that eat of their flesh: sing my essence: pollinators to petaled heads: bees brew honey that taste of me: trees fruit a nectar of me / trickling down your chin with every insatiable bite: your tongue painting for your hands, for your mind’s eye: what my soul looks like
E.A. O'Connell
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