Sex and Murder Magazine

By M.P. Powers

on a moth's brittle wings
my mind hangs
fluttering among toadstools
and obelisks
in a crumbling town
by the sea
purple
with sunrise, or suddenly
sometimes
when the strenuous
hours
awaken
fragile dream or lewd and sudden
impulse

a ghostbird sings

in my mind

and I sink down into a clutter
of filthy
hours