Lemony moonlight turns through the room
ivory smooth and silent
while this day’s residue settles like a dust of breeze
congregated in a fervent sweep of sparkling
that filters truth through perception
into moments embellished like tattooed skin.
Our trunks become vessels for stories
cloaked in ink, symbols to invoke
our life’s residue, ivory smooth and sighing,
as needles filter truth through matter
conceiving and breeching
a human veneer.
This piece was born from a dozen words offered up at The Sunday Whirl. Visit the Whirl for other pieces that these words inspired.