Such finely worded paintings she makes…a poem by Devika Mathur at My Valiant Soul.


i hear jars of jasmine
 in the pale moonlight
 singing and swallowing
 the day's lie
 the fallen mask of scalded hearts.

the night has a belly of jam and butter
 smooth, a swamp of blood moons.
 a feverish rush of adrenaline,
 saying chants to hypnotize.

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5 thoughts on “Moonlight

      1. See? I am an idiot. Maybe when we both grow up? I really do have difficulty with who is whom and what site I am actually on. (as in to which Lee am I speaking!) Apparently I am not alone as I am getting comments on my reblogs that belong to the original author.

        Liked by 1 person

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