Wordle #186 “Photons”


Brenda Warren

I arrange roses in a Mason jar

That smells of strawberry jam.

A throat full of birds seizing

The songs caged in my heart.

I will always remember

My first suicide and how I failed

Even to summon death.

I wipe the mud from my boots.

The crocuses jitter in the breeze

A shamanic fervor, a crossroads

Whenever I see the color blue

I unravel my girth and head south.

The shine of one derelict star

Promising to encompass everything.

Owls skulk in the dead of night

Soundless, invasive, their talons

Set like thorns into a spastic frame.

I thread moonlight

Through my xenophobic veins

An inferential lobotomy

A triumph of photons over provisionals.