Pseudopsychosis.

sea foam / moonrise / troughs of white petals / revivalist skulls of breath from a blistered wind / I lied on the floor / the window had twig elbows / the ancient fall, I bled white like the ants on the window-ledge.

I tire; tree fingers

tie their umbilical cords

onto the late birds;

field and rocks drum / moth wings / and lettuce-white bugs on the wall / mother, father / are happy / tree and limb / the ocean hides the stars /

am I near death? / I don’t know / mists of the horizon / numb then distractedly entwined / two of the sea; mouth resurrects the waves / the moonrise is red / fingernails whitened by the month / cat eats the trout / eyes reflect / into the child frost / tears snake to the moon / the moon is a child / the moon is dead / boney, the roots / of tree and mouth / happy birthday, darling, we love you / mother, father say / midnight / I count my knuckle bones / and I love them too /

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Written for the dVerse prompt:

“For this challenge, I ask you to think about your own birthdays, ones from the past, one that is coming up, a memorable one, or one you are dreading. Whether it’s birthday cake and balloons, a quiet glass of wine on your own that turned into something memorable, or a complete disaster, I’d like you to share a birthday with us.

Aim to write no more than three tight paragraphs, followed by a traditional haiku that includes reference to a season.”

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