Red Fescue

We slip in unnoticed,

through the grassy whiskers

flaying your creamy skin

without a murmur,

seeking out our craggy spot

hidden amongst the flowered violets.


We lay together,

until the silver pond in the distance

becomes our bed sheet,

the hook of our ribs glued

like the fairy-rings

of mud-chips in our hair –


the sunset sinks further

into the bruise-blue of your eyes –

our mirror-bent reflection

now painted across the sky.

You look up,

catching greyless clouds at your fingertips.


Karla M. Alexander


2 thoughts on “Red Fescue


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