Photo Challenge #74 “Mortal” and Wordle #212

Canned Imagination


Her torn veins empty themselves,

Like laughter caught in

The miasma of escaping ghosts.

Her tongue is a broken engine,

Heart a sack of marbles shot

Through reaches of sunlight.

Blood thickens her tears,

Extinctions generated in the dark

Fossils laid and revisited.

She feasts on heirlooms,

Forcing her way into the bones

Of her stillborn mother.