Two Mondays
A heartsick crow collecting small shiny poems
Made by @weekdaypoems
Always original, often weird.
From past issues
Fall Back
Step back from the light
Lower your sights
Embrace the early
falling of night
and longer dreams
to blur the seams
of chilly patchwork days
Zombie
Body untethered from brain
Brain uncoupled from soul
Legs lurching
Arms reaching
Jaws snapping
Throat swallowing
a molecular joy
that asks only for
more, more, more
I am me
I am free
I am Zombie
Olympos
The gods drank
Earth, piercing
its rind,
sucking
its nectar
through a
metal straw.
When it was empty,
some of them left
for Olympos
to forge
a better world,
fresh and
clean and
new and
Martian red.
But the people
back on Earth
gasping/fleeing/dying
forgot/declined/refused
to send offerings/sacrifices/bread.
And that is how the gods died…
some of them, anyway.
Codependent
Two lovers
shared one soul.
It was not enough,
so they ate it whole,
leaving them…
soulless.
Sticky
Tiny tender hands
fling themselves around
a dry, papery neck.
The child’s grandmother
smiles and touches her throat.
It’s faintly sticky.
On her way to wash her hands
she adjusts her glasses,
nudging them up
the bridge of her nose.
She scrubs her hands raw
and scours the delicate webs
between her fingers.
It’s too late.