She wears wings,
crimson feathers stained
with the blood of poppies
brooding in a sinner’s field of dreams.
Ignoring the curse assigned
to Eve’s gown of apple rinds
and devils, she dresses in the
ruby linen of rebellion to open
a garden padlocked with blame.
A scarlet crow in a murder of men
she disrupts the nest built
from the myth of ribs and
stemmy thorns of manipulative ink.
Comments
..
Thanks for dropping by to read mine
Much 💛 love