Cathedral in silk

By -
Before bombs,
the butterflies rose
hundreds, like dust motes.

Before the saints,
wings of iris, teal, tiger 
made the stains in the born light —

arched by the arms of the trees,
insect veins the soldering
marks of glass. 

Before we could break things,
windows flew.


LJ Ireton, 2026.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Boleyn in the storm

By -
The heartbeat of the whale-throat sea  is slow, pushing a world's blood: blue heavy with history, into prophecy that licks into waves like a dragon's tongue frothy with wind and disbelief. But I believe – my red rhythm recognises something floating furious, my own pulse dances in the bigger beast's drum. And creature, we scream the dirt and silver of the storm, eroded limbs and salt-eyed strong breaking the line of water into a circle – myself into myself back up to the surface. C. LJ 2025 (Inspired by Six Wild Crowns)
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

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