Morning Glories

Morning Glories

By Holly Day. 

they touched her with the softest and slowest kiss.
wrapped around her wrists

it was summer before the first blossoms opened
finding their way under

her parchment-thin skin, invisible hands
bones too dry for salvation. tightly wound buds

up here, a halo of trumpets woven
in her hair, thin fingers

a necklace of scarlet against her chest
a net of green tangles, tight around her neck.

Picture by Jackie Angelli.

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