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She who loves but a span of air We have beheld her in her mourning, the brown, broken ivory of dendric bridges, The river of crepuscular blood rising to erase the ruined algebra, The broken loops nailed into her perfect shoulder she who loves but a span of air, Her stars, lost in the slant tunnels of rain, drown as needles in her own waters, The heavy lift of swollen air drops wings like anvils wounding her limbs with prayer she who loves but a span of air,

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She who loves but a span of air We have beheld her in her mourning, the brown, broken ivory of dendric bridges, The river of crepuscular blood rising to erase the ruined algebra, The broken loops nailed into her perfect shoulder she who loves but a span of air, Her stars, lost in the slant tunnels of rain, drown as needles in her own waters, The heavy lift of swollen air drops wings like anvils wounding her limbs with prayer she who loves but a span of air,
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tinydoctor (tinydoctor@mstdn.social)'s status on Saturday, 01-Feb-2025 11:57:35 JST tinydoctor

She Who Loves But A Span Of Air
Text in the ALT. As with almost all the #poetry or simulacra thereof I post, this is not a final version of whatever it’s supposed to be a version of. There are no final versions. All versions become final when abandoned. The comma at the end is correct punctuation.

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