C.W. Blackburn
after the storm
shadows cluster in the harsh January light—the bitter glare of the moon, suppressed beneath winter bedsheets. she lies alone, counting every childhood tear that stole her crystalline dreams—trying to recall the tangled melodies that soothed her heart before it turned to stone.
everything now is held breath and rotten fruit—the nocturnal aroma of the night-blooming jasmines, the fallen crown she buried in the sand. she could have written a sonnet to make the stars sing, instead she withers in yesterday’s shroud, listening nervously to the howl of the wind—still reliving that night it broke in, and everything in her body trembled…
after the storm,
she can’t even find
the words—
somewhere outside,
a flower bud tingles . . .
About the Author
C.W. Blackburn is a mystic poet who lives in Bournemouth, a seaside town on the south coast of England. He has authored five collections of poetry, and his work has also been published in Kindred Spirit, Presence, Ribbons, and Dreich