in her garden every blooming blade has a secret name
Tag: fiction
even the gods hide nothing wanting the blessings of an obsidian sun
she hums and glow worms crawl the skin transforming the pilgrim into beacon
a child with a jar of fireflies walks across a dead whale’s spine
the village glows in the dirt ash and ember taking turns to speak
tongues still smoulder after igniting belief
the smiling hunter becomes a constellation his arrow nocked and ready to rain hell upon the heavens
the harvest never ends some bones hum others curl like dried leaves
entire generations disintegrate and displaced by rising salt winds
midnight the oceans sang as if pulled by a tide of longing for something darker than its depths
