Snow Day

By -








Copyright LJ Ireton 2017


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Dining (Queen Anne Boleyn)

By -
Seven years of not close enough: of lust embroidered   buttons, your bristled cheeks ruby flush with the me you can't have; you would shiver, King. Now you act like you don't remember anything, glare with impatience at the goblet you drank from, turning my bones pewter. Did you taste your wine, notes of clove while lifting your hand, a sign for another? My eyes flash silver, teeth clenched from the edge.  I am everything you wanted to undress, except the present tense. C. LJ Ireton, 2025
Read more

The still morning

By -
It thundered unkind across the island like a tithe taken in the dark for seeking sanctuary. The force was roaring on beauty - why blow on stone already smooth, scatter water with water? Yet the dawn was an empty lung, a casual sun strolled across the sky the stray cats stretched into the light, Unnerved. Your turn , the towers of palm said, rustle-less; to leave your questions with the storm, the thoughts that bite each other. A white dove flew from a terracotta roof, the sky a fire blue  neither were thinking about rain. LJ Ireton, 2024
Read more

Purple Persephone

By -
Stomach aches and city colds  late journeys home I'm just pushing past.  I speak to the pale pigeons with the brown stripes, put cinnamon in my tea to stir into my mind  but it's foggy and unfulfilled. I put the biggest jumper on to give me a hiding place. I read medieval stories in a corner: courts with no lights. You bring me purple carnations  that are more electric  than the last few days together; like neon lipstick stains on my glass time. I stand outside in the white storm rain taps with my flowers  they are a blood and blue riot,  tissue fire — trying to describe them is like writing Persephone's diary... I drink curiosity and they drain the vase. C. LJ Ireton 2025
Read more