Wings
Angels struggle
bleed wine
strapped to ladders
made of gold
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Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
will byers stan first human second
dirt enthusiast
seen from Chile

seen from India
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seen from Canada
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seen from United States
seen from Venezuela
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seen from Saudi Arabia

seen from Brazil
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@friwryte-blog
Wings
Angels struggle
bleed wine
strapped to ladders
made of gold
Gilded
The baker’s butter bread
is in the air
and sunlight is under her lip
honey is in her mouth
with remembrances of
tiny mouths and sacks
Merla
Black perched on
Light
Wet White
Golden
the water reeks of power
turned sour
a bowl grows brittle
little by little
And I saw a star die
Bowl
I am the white bowl
filled with berries
red kisses
plucked
Seed
Ship of fools
blood bow
sow the oceans
Harvest
I am becoming the motion
Sickle and wheat
Adjective
Some bulbs when they break
Bring the dark
Others bring life
I am bulbous and broken
Helpless
Belts buckles and clasps
I lapse
my lap
stand and suffer
call my lover
tell her I cannot run
Home
Sun shines
on half wet laundry
on a line
of my own making
this is a good thing
Terror
My fire dims
They call to me winter white
a pale howl
that makes my bones ache
I shiver
and pull my useless blanket up
trying to blot out the stars
who have revealed themselves
as eyes
Cheer
Glass pressed to lips
lips pressed to glass
red runs
and whips crack
Pronouncement
I framed my face with flowers
red and gold
bit my lip
steadied my gaze
pronounced my other name in a whisper
and left this world
Desire
the teeth and buttons
snap open
and shut
rough along
the carpet of my tongue
Night
Ribbons of moonshine
Chitin light sing
trapped living crystal things
she holds them by their ends
and ties her hair in a bow
Now
my soul is tired
it wants to go to bed
Course
The block
The knife
Pieces of meat
And a wine
That smells like
Dark berries
Bright defeat