An August Without Stars

Understand, I’ll slip
Till my thighs are steeped in
A single thought
For the lonesome

May I write words more naked than flesh
Between those black lines of print
Between Solstice and Equinox,
And now I live in a gallery of seduction

I am beating all my wings
To put off the well of darkness
We would enjoy each other, happiness and I, but
There is a space in this heart that will never be filled—


© Grace Black

imageNational Poetry Month: Day 20


Prompt (did my own thing): Cento

Source text: This Cento is built with with lines from: Rilke, Cummings, Keats, Sandburg, Sappho, Plath, Neurda, Jonny Ox, Sexton, Woolf, Mia Hollow, Bukowski, in order of appearance.


This poem was originally published in Unlost Journal Q3.



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

Love and Ink,

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