Heels pressing the blue,
She arcs the dusk - then falls, tears
Sticky as bruised plums.
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from LW and writers in Poets and other communities.
Cleaving the cloud wide open, wrens weave and fade; as pinpricks on the sea.
By LW3 years ago in Poets
In Newfoundland in Quidi Vidi, St. John’s, About 1771 a baby was born, To who, I don’t know, I can’t quite distinguish,
By Nani2 days ago in Poets
Gathered round the ring Paying respects under stars Cremating dead trees
By We the PPUL7 days ago in Poets
“Hi, Pop. How are you feeling today?” “I’m feeling fine, but who are you?” “I’m Jacob, your son. I was here visiting you yesterday, remember?”
By Mark Gagnon5 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.