Poem: Not There

Recently published in Pyrokinection, along with another (see my recent post).

Fly Well In the Dark,

Owl

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Not There

noon found her frozen
in the snakes
of her own veins.

she had married her own medusa,
commemorated
the fatal event.

to look inside
and turn to shocked stone,
could any pain

squeeze worse?

to show in eyes
a wound so bright
that blood reliquished fire?

to go down, to seek
a twin in a steep pool,
unaware she is dead

until she kisses you.


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