All she can afford to swallow
Is the dust pressed through her sieve
Crushed stone and shrunken shells
Provide relief to her fasting
Threatened to be carried off by the Northern gales
To roll off the cliffside like cobble
Dawn rises over all the eye can see
She is lithe, curled up to sleep where there is no spray
Pale since the twilight moon
Too cold to swoon
Too weak to pray
A quilt sits at her feet, only inches woven
Too few the braids to ail the numbness
and not enough mud water to drink.
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Author:
coracaodacripta (
Offline) - Published: April 6th, 2025 09:56
- Comment from author about the poem: this may be disturbing. idk
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
Not at all disturbing but rather finely poetic. This speaks in metaphor and with rather well woven rhyme. Beautiful and entrancing is what comes to mind evoking deeper thoughts of meaning. A fave
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