Gypsy cupped Client’s hand in her own
and read the palm. Stars encircled the
crown of Client’s head, a large beating heart
above the right ear, hemorrhaged by black blood -
his heart enlarged from life’s dramas,
soul and psyche bruised with passions
**
Client’s head under a yellow lightbulb,
bright heat radiating onto Gypsy’s exposed lifeline.
Gypsy’s eyes burned darkly into Client’s.
“You have many bruises on your soul -
a soul that has countless earth lives attached to it,”
she whispered in Client’s ear.
Her cool breath
fluttered wisps of his hair,
and she stroked his upturned palm
with one bejeweled finger.
Client swatted a moth circling above,
watched as it metamorphosed -
not a moth,
but a ladybug,
come to devour the
aphids that fed on him.
Copyright © 5/6/2024 by Andrea O. Corwin
Thanks for reading. If you liked it, please give it a ♡ and drop a comment.
About the Creator
Andrea Corwin
🐘Wildlife 🌳 Environment 🥋3rd°
Pieces I fabricate, without A.I. © 2024 Andrea O. Corwin - All Rights Reserved.
Using content without written permission is prohibited
Instagram @andicorwin
Threads @andicorwin
X - no holds barred! @andiralph
Keep reading
More stories from Andrea Corwin and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Bird Nest
Downy tufts puff out, Warmth inside a house of hair, Drowsiness abounds. A/N: I sometimes imagine what it would be like to sleep in a bird nest, provided I can be bird-sized in the fantasy of course. I think it would be cosy! More longer stories to come! -TWW
By ThatWriterWoman5 days ago in Poets
Smartystan
Rain didn’t stop Mala. Swaddling for Edgar covered the baby boy’s body and she held her other son’s, Burton, six-year-old hand. The mud, muck, and mire didn’t hinder her from staying on course with her mission. From Pennsylvania, they all trekked to get closer and closer to land that was never promised but simply implied. Each step produced more mud caked around her sneakers. She didn’t care. Her rucksack provided them protein packs to put into plastic bottles and nuts and berries and dried meats to keep their muscles in good health. Water hydrated. She rested. The baby had been asleep the entire time that she had started her journey and her eldest son remained silent throughout the excursion as well.
By Skyler Saunders2 days ago in Chapters
Comments (11)
Fabulous work!
Some very nightmarish descriptors in this scene! And very ominous tone! Great narrative poem, Andrea!
This poem is short but spooky.
Spectacular piece. There are so many things I could compliment and comment on this beautifully written picture... I'll stick with the beautiful metamorphism & the hope coming from "...a ladybug, come to devour the aphids that fed on him." Well done, my friend, well done.
Ooh, I love how you give so much colour to her perception, it's a viewpoint I've never inhabited before.
He destroyed what came to help him. That was so sad. Loved your poem!
Wow, Andrea, this is wonderfully creepy and sent a chill up my spine. Fabulous work!! I have always feared gypsies along with clowns, and I still do after reading this fine piece!
Wow, very nice.
I loved the blend of metaphor, magic and emotion in this poem, Andrea. Very potent and mysterious!
Very pensive, made me think of my encounter with a Gypsy woman.
Wow. Fortune-telling can be a bit scary. Not sure if I want to know everything that's going to happen to me!