Soft squashy
Luminous,
swing seat
Bouncy beat
Secret place,
flutter past,
or stop for a rest,
as you pass
Hop aboard,
or stalk pulley cord,
perhaps a ride,
on white wings,
and, glide,
no stalk climbing,
just lay back,
and, slide,
perfect landing
Sleepy mind

© 2020  Carol Natasha Diviney

Combustible view
Trees lowered
by blocks,
of grey sinew
Corrugated storage,
filled view
Not impressed
No scenic IQ
Can't wait,
to get back for,
the garden view

© 2020  Carol Natasha Diviney

Tomorrow, I will be once again whole,
But today is a bad hair day
Of my soul.

you stitch me together with moon cotton,

stardust stuck between the threads.

you bandage my raw wounds

with your favorite constellations.

when I’m hurting,

you kiss my head,

and intertwine the planets with my hair;

a daisy chain of celestial bodies.

you lay me down among the ghost town of rocket ships

and dead stars

and you whisper.

“darling,” you say,

“andromeda’s got nothing on you.”

the celestial bodies may crash

and burn the sight from my eyes.

but I see you in my mind:

dancing through the galaxy.

and that gives me the right to eternity.

the black holes may swallow

and leave my chest hollow and dusted.

but I hear you in my head.

your voice carries across the empty nothing

and that gives me the right to eternity.

the universe may protest.

implode on itself.

disintegrate.

but I can feel you, despite it all:

you’re made of thousands of years behind you.

you run on rocket fuel and pure moonlight.

you live among fragments of time past;

stardust, spaceships, and singularities.

you chose me to hold your solar systems and make sure they orbit.

so I’ll ignore the meteor showers and the wormholes

and cherish our interstellar dust.

because I hold the right to eternity

and I am a space to be reckoned with.