Enabled, struggling
for breath, and
in her avid
afterglow
is his lucid
death.
His spasms
end with
blood
and within this
enraptured
feline
his afterlife
is now known
About the Creator
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The Harvest
Koyi wobbled to her shabby wood and straw kaz, holding her machete and an old burlap bag with some yams. Someone had laid another basket in front of the patched up door—rose apples today. They were a bright reddish pink, looking waxy and crisp, just the way she liked them. The culprit knew her very well. Those would be crunchy, juicy and sweet—she could tell—but she gathered all the will she could muster and pushed the basket aside to enter her home. She had already said no repeatedly and would not be taking bribes.
By Lily Séjor3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
This was so beautiful! Well done!