Orange fur
Anxiety settles, like silt,
back underneath my skeleton
retreating from the sphinx on my sternum.
back underneath my skeleton
retreating from the sphinx on my sternum.
Where in the forests and farms
did you learn that,
predator?
The still morning
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
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