I never fathomed
how dark, deep and black
was the well that smelt
of roses mixed with tar.
I never fathomed
how wax melts to ink
and chokes the blue fire
of cinders gone cold.
I never fathomed
how far the pine road goes
where the raven taunts and calls
clawing at green eyes.
I never fathomed
how mountains warp in clouds
shrouded incessant with torrents
of hot rain, sweltering in fog.
I never fathomed
how nights grown old
fold and fade in starlight
with a yawning moon gone dark.
I never fathomed
how thorns fend off thorns
while petals hold the dew
granting reflection to the sky.
I never fathomed
how vast the blue veil lay
cursed with gales and monsters
fed by celestial bodies and sweat.
I never fathomed
how clay clothes the bones
of everything gone to sleep,
and a timber door masks it all.
Molly Marr is a world traveler with a BA in English from Southern New Hampshire University and a MS in Psychology from Grand Canyon University. She has written for the Brooklyn Brush, Blessed Is She, and Grand Canyon University’s StartleBloom Literary Review Vol. 5 & Vol. 6. Her other works are found on her personal blog: mvlastavica.wordpress.com