Wordle 15 “Oil and Blood”


She slathers nimbus over her chatoyant eyes

That no mortal in afghan should seduce her aims

She is volatile, promethean,and in her wildness serene

She postures herself in books assuming

Both confidant and thief, both villain and ally


Society weighs upon her as pollution, as oil in blood

Nailing down her crisp white feathers as so many crosses

Such is the onus of the radicalĀ and she does not care

To linger among them, invalids with their shrill eyes

Nesting in deep black pits pulled taunt as a corset


They pass glitter as salt to season but taste nothing

And know nothing of genuine artistry for everything

Consisting of heart is too deep for their convenience

She steadies herself on a divan drinking deeply the air

The skeptics inducing her tears as fireflies

To illumine in captivity and she unapologetically

Easing the lid for fear that her dreams will starve