Cheryl Renaud


Vignette Set of Black Dreams


Shells and bones make no difference
when your veins start rising to
their first sun
Mountains stay creamy to depths
they ascend as stars when the day is done
I am at every hour of throbbing
silence and the music with
its heart down my throat stills me
I sleep with hypnotic flicerking
in my soul like the peaches and
cream candle in front of me

I am away whispering
to my exile...
Home is stolen consciousness,
I don't know that
when I write this verse,
my lips arrive as a fortress...

Submitted: Friday, July 14, 2006
Edited: Monday, August 16, 2010

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