XX

Something I wrote last year…

The wind whines through the hollow of my bones.

The wind whines through the hollow of my bones.

It carves elliptical craters of ashy dust, that cascade, like fine snow on a cold, dry day,

Sparkling like a spray of small stars.

My bones become translucent spars, barely keeping me together, as the wind lifts me from the earth, swollen with fire and ice.

My bones become glittering mirrors, reflecting my heartbeat, broken in a cacaphony of blood and electrical charge. Tiny mirrors, stripped by the wind, like playschool sparkles, shaken by a callous hand —

They came from me,

From the hollow of my bones,

And then the wind drops sheer,

And I shatter.

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About lizardqueen

If single-mothering were a paid job, I'd be rich. However, it doesn't, so I write (which doesn't pay the bills) and teach (which does). I'm overly-educated in the liberal arts, but that doesn't hinder my ability to be pragmatic and realistic. YAY.
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