The Breath of Ghosts
She much prefers tulips. They aren’t like roses or peonies that shrivel to dust and become the breath of ghosts. Tulips don’t wilt. They just drop their petals. They are like corseted Victorian women. They faint. And she knows that the stars she sees are already dead – but that doesn’t matter to her. Then again, this is a woman who, whenever there’s a full moon, secretly maps the universe on her skin and makes moon water.
It’s a song of stars
Sky broad as a temple arch
Days paved with blossoms
A haibun for Miz Quickly’s Day 9 “What do you know”. Inspired by a dVerse prompt. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.
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