melpomene

remember the calm blue light 
crested over the mountainside 

dappled and quickly turning to silver. 
how night reflects a post-mortem desire: 

scalpel to an awaiting incision, 
leaves sloughing as an autumnal gift, 

a basket of prayers and free-fall longing 
plumbing the fathoms of wakeful grief.

Reviews

[.]

affecting piece...
i am really admiring the pronoun-free poems these days. this is particularly interesting.
your sense of rhythm has helped greatly.

thanks for sharing

[32w45]

I love the deepness of this. Though I may not know your reason for writing this or your feeling, it leaves me questionalby sad, unsure why I am. Well done

[W.k.kortas]

The end of something, elegantly expressed.

[Emily B]

different for you, but striking

so beautiful

where ya been?