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,
I tell you.
My heart
frozen outside
inside which
constellations dance.
Inside which
only a mage can peer.
Or a sage
steeped in love.
But it scuds
into obscurity
and will be stilled.
Where
are the mages,
prophets
sages and
peacemakers?
Echoes slap my face
My heart
virginal it will be,
When it’s reborn
it’ll be virginal
cocooned in saffron,
camphor
and ambergris
