Days since the words flew
gray days, felted days
pressed between the boards
a Victorian effigy to
the birthing of spring,
the ripening of summer.
Violet ink bleeds past life
petaling the crisp, sterile,
starkness, of the white page
with its stringent lines.
In the depth of hematite gray
the day draws breathe
and the words flow upward
glistening like a whetstone
from depression’s depth
treasure rises.
“Petals Flew” was printed in Crossroads, No. 8 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
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