The Sound of Ink

  Bottled Moon She poured moonlight into a bottle, dream elixir, perfume of wishes to place on her temples to protect her in the shadow winter of grief. ©Susie Clevenger 2022 Dandelion Skin I’m the wish grown from dandelion bouquets, and shades of moonlight. Rebellion’s child bold in yellow petals formed in stony fields of secrets. ©Susie Clevenger 2022 Apple in Water Tower Town I’m an apple in a water tower town. A sister serpent who doesn’t garden with a Bible or submit to a rib.   Branded a witch with banned book wings I collect whispers in journals and judgement in ink.   From the highest peak of narrow, I see what the faithful won’t hear. I’m in the left of right and preacher’s scape goat sermon Jezebel.  ©Susie Clevenger 2022 The Sunday Muse #219

  Whispering leaf bones of pines emerald my window as the last gasp of winter foams the horizon.   My heart lifts a psalm of spring in goosebumps along my arms.   The constancy of season’s change breaks the glue of grief I’ve been mired in.   For a few chords of hallelujahs I am the wings I begged God to send me. ©Susie Clevenger 2021 The Sunday Muse #149

The spirit stores hope in eternity until darkness collects bones. Am I here to protect the dead who lie in this field of concrete lilies or is it the living I must shield from their grief? I stand stone carved muscle and wings, a warrior angel who can’t lift my head for the weight of tears wailing in the wind. It is the living who war with loss. Let me be a sword for those who breathe. ©Susie Clevenger 2019 Sunday Muse #57