The second time she drifted in magenta her blood flowed dark and the purple-blue mist rose before her eyes. It was then, there on the ground beneath him, grit grinding into her shoulder blades, that she remembered that the magenta have visited her once before.Read More
To Bring the Sky Down
A scared flame of violet – burnt from a found bone,
The indigo of your first lover’s jeans,
High sky blue of a day in spring when the larks sung,
Green fired algae from the dead pond’s ditch
Yellow of the belly of the one who cowers,
Orange from the fungi that grows under the dead fox,
The red of a berry that poisons.
Plait the rainbow - red over orange, yellow over green, blue over indigo,
Tie with violet at the deepest hour of black,
Make sure you bind the rainbow’s ends tight,
When required, cast from a clifftop on a dark moon night.
F. E. Clark lives in the North East of Scotland. She writes and paints and walks the perimeter of her days looking for colour and texture to inspire her work. In 2016 she was nominated for a Pushcart Prize, a Best of the Net, and had a Sma Buik published by Poems For All. Her writing can be found or is upcoming at: Molotov Cocktail Literary Magazine, Planet Paragraph, Twisted Sister Lit, Moonchild Magazine, and The Occulum. website - www.feclarkart.com | twitter - @feclarkart