a bonded beckon

and i reckon to disclose

my hollow exposed

beneath the laden branch

of the beaten auricle


and i sift the unlived

where gift and forgive

unsheath reason

drift’s reach

as the bleak surface

tells tales of me

a crescendo creature

whose lacrimal bleeds

soak the beads of despair


for my prayer tears

the inside dry of its illusion

the fusion we scythe

inside strong force tides

alive on the middle plane

and to know your true name

is the line where love abides


Hawthorn spikes

shield our innocence

in the stead of the substantive

beneath billowing

sweet grass scents

the royal variance

where the last moon hides


© M.G. Iannucci 2019

Art: “Heart of Gold” by Paul Lovering

4 thoughts on “Selene

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