Thursday, May 25, 2023

dinnertime rapture


by day's end
the tuning fork stabbed so deep 
into my heart begins to sound 
some kind of song

and the sky is
a syrupy catastrophe--but somehow
now even moths lumbering blindly
signify hope

Pic: Smelling the lilacs with L

2 comments:

Daria said...

Beautiful poem, fills me with hope :)

maya said...

Thank you!

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