Dreamless Moon

Image: Susie Clevenger

The air is thick with empty.

Windowpanes wink with passing cars,

but no one stops to read my lips anymore.

I live in a burnt candle moon 

where arms atrophy 

from the loss of touch.

I’m words on a screen, a photograph, 

a video wading through pretend trying

to trust I’ll reach flesh and blood.

©Susie Clevenger 2020

 Friday Flash Fiction 55 June 26 2020

The Wolf Howls in Red

I screamed into the wind,

“Give me your worst,

 bits of hell

purchased with a liar’s tongue.

The storm is always with me

even when the moon

tangles my hair with dreams.”

 I was born in the womb

of a dead valentine,

a loveless lullaby hummed

through the throat of delirium. 

 

Today is another matchstick

on the bonfire I breathe,

the scar chasing me with

its knife I won’t let cut me.

 

I will be strong even if I fall.

Every weakness in me will find

its shaman to pulse my spirit

with survival.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2020

I was inspired by the image and a thunderstorm. 

The Sunday Muse #113

Not for Sale

My eyes aren’t servants

of diamonds nor does

my hand owe allegiance

to glitter.

 

If you wish to capture my heart,

pour your soul into charity.

 

I’m not a mannequin

to be gilded with your arrogance.  

©Susie Clevenger 2020 

The Sunday Muse #111

Prejudiced Tunnel of Dead Ears

Swallow your wings…

forget the madness of freedom…

the sky will never remember your name.

In the prejudiced tunnel of dead ears

cries for justice are smothered

in the throat press of violence.

We shall overcome sings in tattered notes

as history repeats, and anger lights another match.

How will this end? How will this end when

white is the darkness that measures a soul’s

value by the color of skin.

©Susie Clevenger 2020

Inspired by a Word Crafters Writing Group

Fool's Fruit

Proserpine ~ Dante Gabriel Rossetti 

A fool bears the fruit of a heart

sacrificed to the arms of stone.

Promised love I endure his eyes gorging

on the pale skin of another woman’s blush.

Pruned to be a silent rose, I am a wraith

cast out to roam a smothered wail

where nothing grows but sorrow and anger’s thistle.

But my lips reject the dirge humming in my throat.

Must my spirit die in the hope of resurrection?

It was not my mirror that failed his eyes, but his

that hungered for youth he could no longer conquer.

For now, I dress in midnight’s sapphire, a shadow

formed from the dark side of the moon.

When night frees me to roam sunlight’s match,

I will dance on flames that burn him from my dreams.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2020

Inspired by Dante Gabriel Rossetti's painting and his sister, 

Christina Georgina Rossetti's poem, After Death

The video is the new release from my friend Samantha Fish.

Poets and Storytellers United - Weekly Scribblings #20

Lies Aren't Dessert

Romancing a lie

curled on venom’s tongue

is like bringing dead flowers

to celebrate birth.

What’s sewn is reaped.

What’s torn is scarred.

Sprinkling sugary apologies on deceit

won’t make deception any less bitter.  

©Susie Clevenger 2020

Poets and Storytellers United ~ Weekly Scribblings #19

Nest of Lungs

Contagion’s nest of lungs

built from hissing tubes

and needles’ plunge was April’s

test of death to see if tears

could still bring flowers to May.

©Susie Clevenger 2020

#napowrimo2020 Day 30

Inspired by: #skyloverwordlist - deaths 

Real Toads - April 2020 - Day 30