the sky’s an ebony construction paper
sonnet, pin-pricked through with prayers.
loose moths mirroring the moon’s
an infinity of unspent
a connect-the-dots game
a freckle-pocked pathway
going somewhere soon.
gravity challenged glitter,
an endless-million places
to tuck your soul;
each one a universe,
NaPoWriMo, day 6.
See also this past one, if you wanna: pen, deconstructed.
You took something so huge and hard to grasp and made it something I can hold in my palm. Love this!