Thursday, January 5, 2023

Not Every Moon Carries Salvation


Widows of the moon dance
their disjointed steps across
the eye of night hoping 
to lure mortal flesh to test
the maze of eternity.

In lace cuffs stitched with ice
and gray wind they turn cartwheels
across window ledges leaving notes
only nightmares can decipher.

Dreamers seasick with visions
roam their own imaginations
trying to escape what daylight
planted in their irises, and words
that are keys that never open doors.

Pale sisters of bladed slivers of light,
they wander the impatient breath
of 3:00 a.m. muting tongues that
pray for deliverance. 

©Susie Clevenger 2023


  1. Oh, those cuffs and cartwheels - keys that never open doors ... and pale sisters ! So much to relish here!

  2. Those are some disturbing and unsettling widows. You've described them, and the results of their influence, in chilling exactitude.

  3. Wow, this is exquisite, Susie! I mean, that opening stanza alone just compels me onward into this nightmare dreamscape that would make Stephen King quail in his boots! "muting tongues that pray for deliverance" is such a chilling ending.