I think I found your fragile self
the one you hide behind I’m grand
It’s delicate as silkworm’s thread
fine-boned with all the thrills
Your hopeful self
wants to feel sea as a briny face mask
under a crown of shells
it wants to bloom like aster
catch the edges of sky
as it turns pink-misty and elfin
wants to know salt and grain
to beautify them beyond stone
because ground is merely a platform
upon which we hover, arch
and take the surface
K. S. Moore is the author of ‘What frost does under a crescent moon’— The Seventh Quarry Press. She was selected for Poetry Ireland Introductions, placed third in the Waterford Poetry Prize and received a Pushcart Prize nomination.
Work has recently been published by Arlen House and Black Cat Poetry Press. Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube: @ksmoorepoet
More work by K.S. Moore
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