Member-only story
The Woman Who Dreams
~can such a world be?~
My heart
a shivery leaf
which caterpillars ate
halfmooned
around the edges
the caterpillars
they grew fat
slept marinated
in philters and ichors
then
burst upon the world.
A diademed sun cried,
“You mortals
of necrophagous ways,
behold the beauty
I foment whilst
you scratch at
a dream of immortality
a corpse
abandoned by
conscience and virtue!”
But who listens?
My heart
Torn into butterflies,
flutters around forests
like confetti.
Like confetti
the colors of which
I cannot count,
it flitters.
If at all death can be defied,
here’s the way,