salix

i was not used to being beautiful

I am a milkweed sprawled beneath the sun
Withering to my roots that grow from the brain of Zeus.
I am his wilted headache.

I am no huntress, I have no lyrics.
No fruit hangs heavy and round from fertile limbs
I speak no thunder, bring no rain.
The dead do not know me, the oceans do not listen.
I only drip chemical defense.

You make me a willow planted beside a dark pond
My leaves touch the reflection like a damselfly
Like my fingers on your shoulder blade
Down the sides of your neck
Along the ridge of your hip bone

Reviews

[Evangeline]

I love this one. It has so much depth and triggers a lot of thought in the reader. Especially the line, " Withering to my roots that grow in the brain of Zeus." Not only that but, it rhymes too. Great work !

[fireblossom]

I must stop reading your poetry for a while. I am becoming something else and am afraid to change clothes in front of the mirror. ;-)

Another lovely piece of art.