The Blood of Ghosts

The Blood of Ghosts

On this star where nothing matches, the clueless seek pennies
Under a gold streaked sky, a woman sits on a great rock
The vestiges of love wrapped around her, ghost blood
Is the colour of  limes in twilight, elsewhere is magenta ore
There are such songs which express the sharpened edge

But none to sing such strangeness  which cannot be slipped
Into a stave, or notated by an  ordinary system
The lingua franca of lovers
A coincidence of phrase, a coupling of two such different colours
Now one does not understand the other
There is an chromatic dissonance where feeling flowers

So beautifully that others marvel at this painted desert
But would not tread the path into such violent  terrain
Where kisses never fall or even ordinary rain.

Veronica Aldous 2016 All Rights Reserved


About Veronica Aldous

Writer and artist, Veronica is a lecturer is Fine Art and Creative Writing. Her first book of poems, 'Moon Cinema' is now available on Now there is also 'Mortal' her second book.
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