Woman

Woman is fuchsia falling apart in October, softly
humming lullabies through an angel’s teeth.
Woman is pomegranate seeds sliced into revolving stars,
dissolving into marzipan, sweet
honey dew hymn,
silky skin pierced into a garden for plastic garnets.
Woman is wind watching a sinking ship,
mountainslide counting bones,
child eating crushed sweet peas in a thunderstorm, pushed
into rolling door, running stairway, laughing streetlamp.
Woman is bleeding gums, tongue.
Woman sheds feathers like raindrops,
drips tattoos from her skin in inky rivulets,
woman dances,
woman cries,
woman lies down with the lion,
golden and asleep in a sunbeam,
dreams.

QueenofDawn

VT

YWP Alumni

More by QueenofDawn

  • Anxiety

    Anxiety twists bedsheets in its sleep,
    coughs up coffin nails,
    drowns out sounds with cotton swabs
    as it clutches a locked metal box to its chest.
    It hides daisies behind a silicone mask
  • Therapy notes

    1. There are sixteen paper cranes hanging from the ceiling, dancing with the vertigo of sunrise panic. Wait for your organs to stop falling while you count them. One, two. Sixteen is smaller than you think.