Poem: Deadly Nightshade

 

Deadly Nightshade

 

shadow creatures,

crooked as the claws of roots,

curl over withered bushes,

 

fey in their contort,

bleak pantomimes,

covert yet unearthed,

 

pleas from a buried heart

which defecated its hurt

through a ribcage long ago

 

and now 

no feel touch taste smell sound,

no sign language,

or  windy semaphore,

 

from these shadows that vine

through the still of rose thorns,

so quiet and uncertain

 

twisted in dusky composure.

======================================

6/23/24 ... revamp

This poem works with the image of sunset turning to dust casting shadows across strange shrubs

3/12 ... "twisted" replaces "twistical" ... "covert" replaces "surreptitious"

1/21/23 .... "twistical" replaces "meaningless"

The poems don't like you.  And they don't like me.  They use us to be heard.