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Jun 2019
where the night carries her silence,
her greys the bridging dome of sky,
her stones their blossomed ridge-

the moon’s half-circle bends
amid cloud, steps in
staccato, where the
stars can’t be seen;

i am less than the cloud
and the sky,
hardly breathing,
moon-ghosts in my hair,
moon-opals in my belly.
beth fwoah dream boleyn
Written by
beth fwoah dream boleyn  England
         Ledge, Lawrence Hall, Fawn, Lily, CA Guilfoyle and 33 others
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