Nightlight Ghazal

Up from smolder, smoke sits knitting its braid in the dark.
Tuck the tip into your locket, curled and frayed in dark.

I took sad receipt of your last letter, a scratch of ink
and ash borne on the edge of a spade in the dark.

Bury the memory in your little black dress. One bite
of bourbon and dirge becomes serenade in the dark.

read more

Sarah J Sloat, Citron Review

Tagged: , , , , ,

Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: