Today’s prompt at Poetic Asides is to write a new world poem. Mine sort of turned into a sonnet-ish something.
by Elizabeth Weaver-Kreider
The World Snake sheds her skin,
spinning through her sky-bed.
We feel the rumble, catch the din
of her, shifting the tumble of red,
indigo, blue. We feel the tides turn
in the burning rooms of time.
The rhyme is off, the rhythms torn,
the threads worn thin. And then the line
refocuses. The itch abates
as old skin sloughs and tears.
New skin will emerge and replace
the tattered shreds we bear
in our solitudes, as we wait
for the new world to appear.