WHITEST MOON tell the
clock to turn it
back
to blackest noon.
whit
est
dark
est
forested barrier,
a child is growing in the
petals lining your
fence.
a child is growing in your folds
it ki ck s
my gut
repeatedly
[ . . . . . . ]
pa
per
ma
che
and a ja gg ed
pa
per
cutter.
the WHITEST MOON is soft
and she loves me
she is a safety
and she waters the flower
fence
WHITEST MOON forgives me
and she loves me
and she picks a
pea pod from the trellis
and puts it in her
red mouth
now it's gravel
blackest noon
tread lightly
as I write letters to my
lovely
WHITEST MOON
that say
kiss my lips
and un
forgive
this gorgeous
gold
disaster.
YOU ARE READING
These Hazy Days
PoetryA collection of poetry for the summer and autumn days. cover by me, on canva.com all rights reserved. ...
