Beneath my skin, a pulse like kelp, stitched to brine;
dancing, drained, submitting to its blood.
The rain came late with fluorescent sense
footsteps cloaked in mist; its scent a sickle sickness
faceless thieves, sedated with sensations.
I must remain undone; at this muted birth of night.
Today Grace are challenging us to write poetry inspired by the poems by Wole Soyinka at toads. I have used phrases and words from his poem Night. I will also link up this to PU tomorrow.
March 7, 2015