Ecclesiastes
Francesca Rainosek
The red light that raged
within me, and drained
the light from black eyes,
The death of summer heat,
closes my lids, lets me sleep.
Aching bones, that crack
with bearing weight, give in.
Cold showers shock the
exposed nerves that sing,
Let it die.
Let it all bleed.
On an Autumn afternoon,
she slipped into the world
of men, tethered
to a pulsating cord
that quieted and paled,
with images in mind
of marsala blooms,
burgundy and blush
tablescapes, and
Instead of the herbs and
succulents struggling to root
beneath a cracked window sill.
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