Image Copyright E. Harper 08
an army of skeletons remain
grey-purple trunks
long and frail
widow’s fingers
saying goodbye
black-grey clouds
washed out ash-tray water
tree branches, like claws
reaching, clutching
their twig-hands almost ashes
the sun behind this scene sets
a sore, pink red wound
still-born egg yolk
at night, the moth eggs open
in the burnt-out bowels of the trees
the sound like tinfoil,
crumpling, between fingers,
wings spread under the moon;
unfolding, revealing alien dress
the girl,
her arm, pale as milk,
marked with veins,
tight, knitted circuitry
pulsing through
flesh, clear as glass
above her, clouds collect,
like grey wool, caught
in a Singer, they aim–
to smother the moon
the road is drowned in
a dark, brackish ether
a yellow bus passes.
the color of banana flavoured cough-syrup.
milky-yellow.
Last 5 posts by Matthew
- Sediment - February 13th, 2011
- Before Dark - January 16th, 2010
