Again and again these emotions are May’s own utterance

Sketch me your rapturous longingĀ 
as loganberries
changing from pale to red fall from the sky,
in twilight your skin is more olive,
your lips more soft
and eyes a form of rhetoric that seem to melt
under the heat of my own gaze,
what once was whispered to the moon
has now emerged in tarot,
though I admit
I have no memory of being offered a choice,
beloved
what’s chaos to the world is balm for my soul.

 

Photo credits: The Dystopian Tarot, Kerry O’ Conner

Posted for Art Flash @ Real Toads