Literary Vegan

I kept my promise.   Hidden over winter, hope - shelled black and closed, in an envelope. It was still cold when I conjured  the natural, the new and oldest beginnings; I mixed the pink, the orange, two rows of I don't know - your most beautiful was a burnished brown. Some of the seedlings are ten inches high now, though even the smallest  are willing themselves closer to the sky. I compare them to you, give their roots more room to claw. I have no patience, only pictures of pointed suns under the moon last confetti summer. LJ Ireton, 2024

Often, our tears won't come out until we call them by name. Storms wash themselves away, but this kind of rain leaves words uncovered.  LJ Ireton, 2024

I do not have to rise like you because you let the light into the room - does a crysalis released from its cocoon too soon fly beautiful, fly at all? I don't want advice  I am wise to true and sulking clouds - perfectionism feeds the sabbath feeds the portrait. I overthought into my blanket last night, and need to fold myself in poēsis,  I will not explain my stillness,   it is a miracle I will release over the steam of the kettle - into a desperate garden. I will breath damson black-lined wings around a tea cup, invisible things in place.  LJ Ireton, 2024

I never feared time until you found me. Love is like trying to hold the ocean with two arms only. I whisper into the sound of shells, to echo into eternity; outside of precious seconds,  further than the sea . C. LJ Ireton 2024