Pandemonium

Grief grows from shipwrecks long since gone,

docked where flowers no longer bloom.

When dusk-sewn ribbons scorch my sky,

shreds of onyx shower down.

Needles pierce my skin,

unfurling convoys of rubies on my cheeks, in my ribs.

Embers fleck my body

while grief bellows like irises sinking,

while flowers drown in murmuring silver.

I mourn I conquer I bleed.

From my lips pour soundless cries,

I curse my sky —

slowly.