Ropes of Gold
She is bound to her beauty with ropes of gold. She glows in sunlight, her white dress stabs the eye. Her brothers, red with drink, have left her squeezed tight on this balcony. They will return when her bridegroom comes with a lily, a key and a cage. One is named for a cactus that grows in the desert, one for a lonely tree twisting on a headland above the sea. The third is named Cloud; his face a mist of breath and rain. All night she heard waters rise, sensed the giant eye that stares and stares as she stalks the courtyard of the moon. by Steve Klepetar Steve Klepetar’s work has appeared widely, and several of his poems have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Recent collections include My Son Writes a Report on the Warsaw Ghetto (Flutter Press) and Return of the Bride of Frankenstein (Kind of a Hurricane Press). Email him at [email protected].
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September 2024
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