A heart.

Moon empties her woodsmoke arms
like blood fingers from a pale mist
	I smudge air over the old drawer
	drugged by grief like Mary Shelley
	
	…but you had mine;
		it’s a schizo wind now
	caviling my girl; my own madness
		lies ill, she murmurs.
 
© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

Revised 6/15/2021

Moon empties her woodsmoke arms
 like blood fingers from a pale mist
	I smudge air over the old drawer
	drugged grief, like Mary Shelley
	
	…but you had mine
deadlocked to fringes of my thumb
	caviling my girl; my own madness
		lies ill, she murmurs.

© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

Written for the 6/14/2021 dVerse quadrille prompt.

I wanted to write about an unrequited infatuation or love once I remembered that Mary Shelley supposedly kept her dead husband’s heart in her drawer.

Romantic.

I think this will be a draft I’ll work on again. Maybe today or another time. I don’t know.

53 responses to “A heart.”

    • Ah, Glenn! I do not know what to say. I love that name though–Mistress Poe, but I’m far from it. Thank you, though, for the compliments and feedback.

      Like

  1. Moon empties her woodsmoke arms
    like blood fingers from a pale mist

    Love your classic way of saying it, like ‘woodsmoke arms’ and ‘blood fingers’, brilliant word connections, Lucy. You did it throughout your poem. LOvely take, Ma’am!

    Hank

    Liked by 5 people

  2. Keeping a husband’s heart in a drawer takes ‘crazy love’ to the next level! Deliciously dark. I love both versions and I cannot choose between them. Maybe they could be a series?

    Liked by 5 people

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