Of life

A length of hair traded

For the health of a child,

Tongue-tied mornings

That breathe of sweaty worry

And the scent of hope

Rising against the flimsy dawn.

I hear colour 

Fabricating foamy trolls

Under caramel bridges,

The way it modulates the eye

In bright shades of bitterness.

There lies the promise of a half-day

On the sycamore tree

Of flaking joys,

Uprooted and swallowed

Into the wombless fire

Of the one who sells the mane 

To cheat fate. 

Reviews

[MomzillaNC]

A really stark and emotive style of imagery. I love the way it makes you rethink what we see, hear, taste, feel… revisiting how our perception colors all our life.