For the month of December, I wrote a small poem about Moribund every day.
[The Satik letter for “H”]
I traced the ridges of her spine
and that was comforting to me
to follow them to her jawline
to touch a thing I couldn’t see
[Brun’s eyes.]
December 20
[The Satik letter for “W”]
“For you,” She said, “Marun, I’d sing a couple bars
in love, and light, and color, in the cooling shade of stars.
Maybe that is saccharine– absolute nonsense.
Maybe you have wounded me, and this is recompense.”
[Stars and constellations.]
December 21
[The Satik letter for “G”]
She thumbs the black scarf’s inner seam
and that is of no comfort to her;
phone numbers that ring and ring
for idle hands that once were there.
[Brun’s phone.]
December 22
[The Satik letter for “D”]
Child of the mourning snow,
is that your lot in life?
To sink your caustic teeth in soft things,
weeping on your knife?
[Darrow’s eyes.]
December 23
[The Satik letter for “`”; glottal stop.]
forgive me if I think that’s rich
my eyesight is quite poor
and lying in this muddy ditch
it’s hard to think much anymore
[Malakai’s eyes.]
Decemverse 2018
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