Stitch (Graphic Art Poetry Pamphlet)

Rhea Seren Phillips

A ripple displaces her face from Heaven,

thicket of plastic ferments with a leaven decay of beetles...

as black shadows twitch thread across her lips in a blanket stitch.

Last month breath bubbled a cautious seven

as blues glared up at him through a distant Heaven;

the soul frustrates patience for bodily replevin,

ensnared in weeds hides her uncured flitch.

A ripple displaces her face from Heaven.

Shrapnel of abandoned bottles gouges eleven wounds yet to be stitched;

the beetles must be forgiven.

They've misjudged the day in a haste to unhitch their gear

but it won't be long till idle fingers twitch...

and play forget-me-not.

Tomorrow: still seven.

A ripple displaces her face from Heaven.