The Knock

A weighted dream of
bludgeoned breath and
cold death seeps. The
divergent paths of
expanded seams and
frost’s first foot. Life
ghosts beneath the flesh,
hovers above ripe veins.
Icarus and ignorance
jade her blood, rust
kites her eroding
lode of organic
marbled sentience.
None before, nor behind
or of any length, hold
portent as she has held.
Quaint, quiet, quips
rasp at the gate of ribs.
Seedy blight cancers as
tornadoes touch her teeth, an
utterance of defiance—
verbal volleys and
words withdrawn. A
xystus, a reprieve, a respite
yawn before her
zenith, and she awakes.

© Grace Black

Poetry Month continues, and this is Day 10 of NaPoWriMo for me.  Woohoo! we are 1/3 of the way through this trek. Today’s prompt was to format an abecedarian poem. There are numerous ways to achieve this. Such a great prompt. Happy inking!

30 poems in 30 days. Do you dabble in word play as well? Let’s create 30 in 30.

Love and Ink,

Grace

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