Gypsy Rojo, Ladybugs
in a small loft above the cliff built on sticks
no windows no doors breathing hyacinth
waves breaking wounds torn from her bosom
ladybugs lost comfort in the dark willing respite
a piece of body left in a shell to mother her loves
in the sand on the wood shifted possessively awoken
asleep protected grace transformed to age wisdom
the gifts were lifted the light shadowed red for power
white for earth slipping to the splinter of the wood
to the bottom of the cliff to look up trees at peace
ladybugs all flew red spotted eyes of the gypsy rojo
Posted by Suzanne Schwartz
