It's Still Life

NaPoWriMo: Day 11 – 2 poems: A letter
written to a person, and their reply

My dearest heroic Mark Antony, I remember the sun so bright that it bleached the days colourless, the ground was wounded, naked and unbending, and it raged at us. We were the ruins of yesterday’s moon. Under what shifting sands do your bones hide from me.

My Queen, my sun, my Cleopatra, I’d answer, but syllables fall from my lips. My eyes are covered with bandages and utterances, and the wind mutters of its long journey. I am adrift in a sea of sand and clean light. Eternity is an everlasting madhouse, and I think I hear palm trees singing.

PA AprilPAD Day 11: poem using prime
numbers 2.3.5.7 as syllables per line

Prime Luck         (draft; very drafty; full of holes)

Luck is
measured by
the tick of the clock.
Heads or tails, either but
never
both, though both
fall into the palm
of a hand. It’s in or out,
but can’t
be both at
the same time ….. so I
listen to stars. Rarely count
them. I 
smell roses,
though rarely cut them. 
And there’s that tick, my luck is
running, 
fading like
a colour.

The Poeming: The Fall – Day 11

Written to prompt for NaPoWriMo Day 11 “a letter and a reply”, Poetic Asides “a poem using prime numbers in some way”, and The Poeming’s Found Poetry/Ekphrases Challenge, and shared with #APoemADay on Twitter   © Misky 2021 Image is WikiArt CC:00