last flower.

with the last flower, traveled and scrawled from our mind—across the sun. the moon cracks and reddens as death comes to stardust. ebony époque hikes to the yellow tourniquets; and in-utero shells, plasma glass, her eyes are mine;

maniac moon

devours the limb to the stars

clotted in bones/rocks.

I dream between the blood from the womb; nature’s breast and bone; clavicle, ankle bones, alone she is unmisted to the shore, into Autumned dark. I dissociate.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.


Written for the dVerse prompt: “Whatever your pleasure, today, let us write haibun in which we use the word “hike,” alluding to whatever context we find most meaningful. For those new to haibun, write a prose paragraph or two, followed by a haiku, in which you include a seasonal reference, and a complement of divergent images that provokes insight.”


2 thoughts on “last flower.

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