Muck Bit Her Ivory Nightgown , Time to Come

Muck bit her ivory nightgown, as if earth hungering

after her...the delicate collapse of a napkin, she.

Hours poured atop her head, her shaggy, silvery

mane suspended--its reluctant bounce captured

at midpoint...as a spiderweb under ultraviolet light.

Desert sands lost in contemplation, reminiscent of

her flesh--divulge her core of which she sleeps in a

fetal position.

Her body spasms awkwardly...its will visibly slowed

from initial motion.

As the paralysis experienced by prey amid the astral

annals of nightmares.

She'll rise into that shine, wonder at the nightmare's

symbology...talk to her garden--whilst thinking of her

time to come.

Konstantinos Mark

Reviews

[Vertigoingnowhere]

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