Schiaparelli with Katie
It was like finding a ladybird in a cave;
red dome waterfall,
black gothic lace,
we traced flashlight shadows fashioned
into stone,
spread ruby beetle tulle
around our legs.
About songs acknowledging the feeling
A song is a skipping stone on a bone-still lake, roads deep dropping into the stomach of the found. One hundred times a water kiss — the head tilt familiar naming something for the city sunset hungry. Then the submerge — playing fish-scales down as lonely bubbles and calling bells meet in new and old voices. LJ Ireton, March 2026.
Comments
Post a Comment