Cassiopeia is burning clay
molded without his hands. Sadly,
she supposes. She senses her contours
expanding. Binary opposites.
Orion is softening embers.
Stoked by the remembrance of who she used
to be. A shadow of one
he now smolders away from.
If only Winter did not wound
all the mends they struggle to meet standing.
all the mends they struggle to meet standing.
They disappear beneath
the treeline cradled
in the hooting mist
of memory.
the treeline cradled
in the hooting mist
of memory.
Cassiopeia is burning clay
ReplyDeletemolded without his hands. Sadly,
she supposes. She senses her contours
expanding. Binary opposites.
That is quite lovely. But now, imagine a different guiding image as a title. Something less expected, perhaps, than Purgatory?
Imagine if this were titled, simply, "Home"? How might this be an odd rendition of what the speakers feels about her home? If you put those mythological and astronomical stories in service of a radically different agenda, you may get some startling results.