Seventeen Days

- by A.Z. Louise -

I fall hard into the little
lines that stream down the face
of a goddess worshipped
with a thousand scaphist wounds

she spits sundown into my palm
and the shimmer of lost light
makes a queasy buzz
settle in my stomach

the night stretches between my
fingers as hungry insects
perch on my lips to
wait for milk and honey

the goddess smiles sunrise
the farewell slice of a sling blade
and for a few seconds
all I can see is copal starglow

© 2019 by A.Z. Louise


A.Z. Louise is a civil engineer-turned-writer of speculative things, whose conure keeps them company during the writing process. When not reading or writing, they can be found playing folk harp, knitting, or arguing with their sewing machine. Links to their work can be found at azlouise.com.