squander red rock
alone the lady
and darkness
to the tides
dislocate Apollo,
to pares of bones
wed to grief;
I shatter like
the blue moon
into fall’s hands
in the fingertips
of flowers that were not mine
& ghost planets
and shivers
reserved to the
death of the apple,
and baby’s dream.
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Written for this week’s Go Dog Go Prompt: into fall’s hands.
