Literary Vegan

Here is dusk.  And you feel you have done nothing. But you kissed a forehead, did you not? whispering from your soul, over and over. You gave the neon light of sunrise  to another's eyes, opening to find you there, spoke the lightning of birdsong with a rising chest, yours, and said words that will never disappear. The devout pearl of the sun  curtseys pink into a bed of clouds and here is dusk. Transparent maybe, or sparkling somewhere, no small thing is to be part of the evermore - you told of love, you loved. LJ Ireton, 2024 

I smudge storm clouds across my eyelids; a nod to the tempest. I perform my person. Inwardly,  I'm raking through a sea of sequences;, spun from every action I do; like undulating hair underwater, long and tangled. My therapist says to shift the sail , but waiting sirens wear my brand of perfume, they know how much I need to pull one strand of untruths from the others  to find a tangible, soothing, line. I've got a lot on my mind , I say. I'm fine .  LJ Ireton, 2024

The clouds are giant gull's wings swept back, rows of flight all turned towards the low sun, hung with lace herself. She wants you to believe in the folklore of naked skin under the sky, for your wishes  to sustain her under the veil; feather-sweet as imaginary birds, rolling need into the burn.  C. LJ Ireton 2024