deepundergroundpoetry.com

She Rises

I am viscera slipping through
her moon of half-crested belly.
Limbs bend in archaic archetypes:
her skin slack in gray folds.

White hair spread across remnants
of golden crop, weathered by frosted kiss.
Quiet hush settles across her every
fret and fear of tomorrow.
Mind and body become ash—

Spirit released into new flames.
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