Tracking Pixel

Jefferson Community College Website

Black-choked True


Olivia Morgan


Two tears closing in on perfect translucent spheres,
Sore green and tawny gold, he, the life of Autumn’s daughter.
He was so beautiful when he cried,
lips clinging to chipped glass
and liquid flames, left with nothing but two tears,
rolling down a pale and harrowed cheek,
filaments of pain and jazz and liquor.

Death, the black-choked tree
All skin squirming under the heat of his madness
And trapped beneath that breath and bone
Lies Autumn’s daughter, ticked with rosebuds,
And sleeping under stone,
And earth,
Leaving a father
cursed by the illusions of eternal night.