Ivy
As if three suns shine
on me, I grow that
fast. Groping the fence,
I climb razor cuts into
the bark of trees, spread
like a summer wind,
or fire across
the coolness of soil.
Sticking to willows,
weeding up the house,
scarring brick like sin
on a soul. I’m a …
tangled Medusa.
©️ Misky 2019 – for dVerse. Written in the style of “Mushrooms” by Sylvia Plath
It's Still Life 
2 responses to “dVerse Poetics”
I’m intrigued by your images. Original and thought-provoking.
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I can really hear the way the vines are clawing on the walls of the house.
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