by Audri | Writing |

nature has not mother - by Audri

her hand shaking
set record breaking appeal to the nights
where she stayed nocturnal
sitting on bubbles and trees
resetting the sun
to different colored atmospheres
to her musical mood swings
her breed of Swedish lungs
and German haired baby grown dolls
were scattered in vintage garden groves
[they tend to take a life into pale cuts
and still life photography]
she told stories of Jamaican ocean winds
making love to oversized sea flowers
and giving embarrassing light
to a sun that shied away
from electrical and star tinted waterfronts
her name is ____ []
my home on better days
to sift drunken red blots
and scar cavities through x-ray goggles
I thought we could sit for awhile
and talk about her
she wanted us to realize
wind tunnel wishes
had more bloody veins
and fleshy molds
to its surface
more than you felt
I couldn’t bring her
did you love her?