before the sun sets on this
field of fire
and the fresh air faces us
like a splinter

raise your skirts and
collapse your fists, you
maidens of the night

we are
women of the future, our
broken hearts are
dead in a box, with
knees as delicate as
ants, we are
benevolent, we are
keep looking

with mouths like penny ghosts
with our fables and our unfettered
questions and our freedom dangling like
wishes in plain sight, a swig of cheap wine
and a golden handkerchief, the fear of
our approaching wildness subtracting
new colors from
the sunsets

the clouds are dancing with their
shoes on and the
manic collective is at our feet
their fingers are
as apple pie, the strategies
of a forbidden hunger
to be hardened
to be eaten
to be the needle

17 responses to “Moondogs”

  1. U! This is so good!! Elegant and chic, raised skirts, collapsed fists! Every line and meaning…fabulous! Let’s pop the cork on the whole damn future! 🤭 You are a natural born writer!

    Liked by 2 people

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