Lunatic Fruit
wild eyes open
your iris sunrise;
dusty rays flit
past smoking lids.
witchcraft glamourous,
sweet cackle rasps
succulent and jagged.
yawn... stretch;
an old jungle cat
too lazy to prowl.
we were lustrous apples;
now jostled and bruised.
our rot spreading
through the crate.
lunatic fruit rebellion
against the day.
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Author's Note
This is about how beautiful and ugly it is to wake up beside somebody in the morning.
Other stories by Chris Stafford
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Thanks to Teresa Houle for the edit.
I like this very much. 'lunatic fruit rebellion against the day' very cool. *
this is a heady brew
some of my favorite words
are the ingredients
bravo
fave
excellent language. *
Honest, delicate moment, beautifully realized.
You can tell how much you love the language in this short breath of a poem. Had me at "iris sunrise."
Thanks, Yasmin.
Sometimes too many words can muddle the message.
This is so visual, very well done. *