Overture

I propose a toast
to a honeycombed crux
charred black
it wanes but it’s no moon.

Molasses streak the sky
disguised as light
it will not calm the alabaster globes
bobbing in the icebox of her gut.

Stolen
she wanders ghostlike and barren
expectant for the cuckoo’s cry
consent to come
unhinged.

An overture in reds and golds -
hardly untruth
the hues bury shame:
eggshell-white and stuffed full of monsters.

Take heed
and never trust the oleander
the fox-eyed traitors
of the flower patch.

Reviews

[Dr. Wood ?]

well YOU are good...and no mistake...But should it not be Molasses STREAK the sky...not streaks

[Marina Rose]

Thank you very much for pointing this out! I wasn't aware, I'm changing it now. Also thank you for taking the time to review! :)