Bit o' Poetry… Sylvan (Pan)acea

Our Madrigals

Winsome and graceless

Bring seasons of fractured glass.

In netted skirts

Gaily whirling, our rose petal nipples

Float adrift in a fleshy sea.

 

 

Cock crows, crows shriek

A cackle of morning

Thunderstorm sky

Exuding rain as sweat

Sipping grenadine from eggcups

Languid as swan-necks

We are drenched and shattered.

 

We spin webs of silver

Groaning goblets of digitalis

Overflow and blacken

Into ashen limbs, a dazzling ruin

Frostbitten lips whiten

With particles intricate as lace.

 

Dew clings, fragile...