her eyes were emerald cities in tourmaline
mist spit down from the burning moon
though soot and whisper woke my wolf-child
from her yellow maidens melody
she pooled in fevered mulch and wooden pearls
that he planted with misery and pined out
by laughing at the demon-fruit;
by dining in the diamond’s vein
restlessly into that muddy river’s spine
frothed sticky, milk-white limbs
butter-knifed into the nectar of a princess cut
moonstone, stinging quietly as ruby winds
on brand new wings
and way over the feather-laden fields, far out
where she tangles, soaking in the grave he wept her
the mineral tongue of earth has lapped her
swallowed gems and all
Samantha Lucero likes… uhhh… cats, and can never think of what to say about herself, she writes at sixredseeds, sometimes and is a managing editor at Sudden Denouement Literary Collective.
Whisper and the Roar 