Periaktoi Writing Post

 

That damn hand,

Spinning by and by and cobblestone waltz-

Jars rusting with the saffron and lavender,

Appalachian wedding and polluted dress-

Yes, she’s a marionette, twisted with cotton vine

And scarlet marks.

Her blush, corrugated, a lunar crater in hollow cheeks-

And the wood pores soaked with dust,

Beetles and unbeautiful wisps.

A medley, she said, a clash of brass notes and choir screech.

The trampled grass and buttercups, perfect with the lace and sash-

A dream.