Five A.M. – Lucy (of Lucy’s Works)

my own death
vineyards of moons,
a shallow depth
of the sea,

Venus sinks,
I drowned and cried
in my sleep,

died like the ocean,
born in split
like the magenta
of mother’s womb;

a vortex of nothing
fair and bony
for the ghost
of mine does not grieve

these amputations of mind;
absence of the moon’s bare-

I see the lizard limbs
of the moonrise

as I weep
like the island.

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Written for the Free Verse Revolution prompt: lamplight terrors.

As well posted for the dVerse open link night.

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