Red

by November 12, 2019 0 comments

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The color of life
The shade of all wounds
It blackens into sorrow
As the sad moon fades away

The ripeness of an apple
The grounding of the reefs
The thread that ties me
To the very first woman

Ancestral blood
The sign of the times
The culmination; the harvest
Drops of ruby
All flushed down the toilet
The flushing of my face

There’s a moon inside me
A fate knitting machine
I wax and I wane
In the ebb and flow of time

A story teller, an Oracle;
A second heart
The bottomless pit
Of a deep dark well
Primordial waters
Stir within

editors note:

A self, colored by the first self, the life in all selves. (We welcome Dana to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.)- mh clay