Black
on grey
on twilight,
the purple dusk
and bruised toenail
sliver of moon.
The trees
are dark beasts
on the horizon
and I rode- I strode,
on my own two-feet
to the gallows,
the sad-sweet moment
of my undoing
its not magic
but something else
altogether—
Like a first smile,
like a newly found element.
Something else,
yes, something else entirely.
There is a face in the moon,
a skull,
a dry, dead grinning thing
and it is this,
it is always this
I return to.
~Melanie Thomason
2013
This poem is from my first book, Spectrum: Watercolored Words
Wonderful words have made a beautiful poem, here!
Thanks so much, Resa!
So happy to see this. ❤
You paint a vivid image which gets one thinking about the back story to this poem.
Excellent. I like the audio a lot
I love ’em skulls