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A Fractured Deity


By Erin SheaPublished about a year ago 1 min read
A Fractured Deity
Photo by Prabir Kashyap on Unsplash

The sun serves as a formidable pair of eyes

a peerless audience


in a way -

though I keep my gaze cast low.

I let the sun see my bare shoulders,

blue veins,

poppyseed legs.

I stare down at some ants -

economical, frantic, busy.

I wanted to tell someone about them.

Their delicate trails,

precarious homes.

The sun watched me

and I watched them -

a fractured deity.

The sun is an exigent audience.

I no longer allow myself to bask in its aura,

in lethargy.

But I will soak up its vivid doses -

in pieces.

I picture my body full of cracks,

the sun's rays shining through them,

my shadow casting patterns.


in its yearly act,

begins to lift the curtain -

from faintness to fervor.

I wait...

Find myself startled,

when mid-meal,

an infantile spider graces my plate.

With cup and paper,

I carry it away,

set it loose on the porch rail.

But it remained still...

beneath an overbearing sun.

I leveled my face to its miniature plane

and stared into eight microscopic eyes.

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Erin Shea

New Englander

Living with Lupus and POTS

Lover of Language, Cats, Tea, and Rainy Days.

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