Get Your Premium Membership

Golden Wattle Flowers and the Wolf Web

The world is spangled green and gold
Against the blue dome of the sky
The newborn spring sun is still a Death Head

A bright white inflorescence of pain
Is a Christmas garland
For my womb tree

My shining uterus horns
Which will never bleed
Life or death

In the sweet silence of the night
Come into my dreams, howling wolves
Turn me into deep petrified ancient roots

Beneath the yellow carpet of citrine light
There is a grey world of wolves and ophidian moon blood
My body is struggling to shed so hard

Breeding black moths, pain moths, desert moths
The wolves will eat my dead blood in a circle
The wolves will water my dead fig tree

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Post Comments
Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.