image from pixabay.com
Poem written for and submitted to “Pen Something to This Prompt” poetry contest, Sotto Poet, sponsor, November 5, 2025.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The broken amphora leaks wine dark as ink~ not for drowning sorrows but for making sigils on stars. We don’t merely rearrange rubble with our words we ignite phosphorus in marrow-bones guiding wanderers through sulfurous nights. When the world grinds its sermons into dust, we distill comet-trails from the grime. Those soaring meditations? They become bridges where ghosts cross with new alphabets, each footfall cracking the ground into stars.
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