Sunday, February 10, 2019

Hot breaths through me not yet articulate
the lightning strike of vertebrae
landing in horizon's turf,
heel grinding an arrow
on a granite mattress
crooked streak of snow to the wet mouth
tossed through the wrinkled altar.

Thatched reverberant peaks
pregnant with nutritious ice
sleeping currents over
knots of ripped moss.

Antennas of mercy and grace
leaking radiant ephemera
cliffside's pigmentation of chalk traces
bulbs of a patchwork womb.

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