Pseudopsychosis.

bare-bones / wed to abandoning in-utero
fingers; the apple bursts
like an appendix / and the sea
breast to breast / is a mistress
to the Kalahari sun
/ mouthing /
to my moon
“death goes to the worms” / alien touch / my love has gone /
threnody and dream,

as if the Earth is glass /
stranded / to the ghosts /
of ourselves / this is the body
of sand / my love
is soon gone to / plasma
/ in the lights / 

threnody and dying
the sea is an insomniac
maniac / to the glassy
violets / and stargazer flowers
spawning on an inch of Autumn 

death; stroke the worms’ gut
death feeds them well when we’re
eventually gone /

I tire to grief / alien touch / I withdraw from / the moon’s fingertips /
for my love has gone.

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Written for the August Prompt #2 for Free Verse Revolution.

Reposted for the dVerse open link night.

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