the dark moon

The seeds of the flower hold like a secret the light, the mercurial brightness in its layers of sepals, stashed away from the night moth’s probe. Your eyes are the color of milk, layers of cream trembling before spilling from the bowl. When we wandered the slopes of the hill, the rubber trees spilled moon from slits that you touched for their stickiness. I step out in the dark night, touch the moon in the flower, in the milk of your eyes. When the last drop of radiance is drained from there, darkness spells every word and phrase, sentence runs on without pause, bearing no meaning.

November Poem A Day: Written in response to the image prompt ‘Blossom in Moonlight’

2 thoughts on “the dark moon

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s