This Cherry-tree Bower my Prison
Well, they say that you do not bloom
For fruitfulness; but although childless,
You do not seem infertile.
You blush and we all falter; with every aging
Year your youth rebounds and calls forth
The whirring birds with nectar.
Each dust of sunlight off your pale does spring,
And bobs like poplar seeds descending
Elysium in a slight June breeze;
These dazedly dancing faeries
Are the husks of souls that wander.
I suppose that these are your children.
Where does this comfort come from then?
Where have you learned to care?
How have you learned to spread the light
Into this arbored green air?
Is all this as inherent as motherhood
(If motherhood ever was inherent)?
​
~ alexandria lorién
CREATIVE GALLERY
SPOTS OF TIME
March 2024
March 2024
March 2024
Spring Nebulas; or 4884
​
Sometimes I come to bed late,
Our open, illegally small window
funnels the breeze of fading daffodils
into our room that barely fits the queen.
​
Sweet spring rain trickles through
our seasonally unkept front yard. I can
listen to the makeshift fountains
of waterspouts and gutters
push an aqueous existence through
aluminium, stucco, and roof tiles;
hopefully not into our window
onto our floor tiles.
​
I melt through our sheets and into
your warm night garden. I can
listen to your makeshift fountains
of waterspouts and gutters
push an aqueous existence through
veins, arteries, and heart,
which conduct the arrested lightning
of your vessel.
​
One day, I will ask if a lock
of your hair is a motif of pettiness
or a vow of storied stars.
The sky will answer with
a bellowing sigh, but I won't
be able to listen. All I'll hear is
rain that floods my window, and
I'll never leave my cold, cold sheets
because the tiles will be wet.
​
~ alexandria lorién
published in Sundew issue 1
May 2024
May 2024
May 2024
Sunspots of Decay
​
Under dim- and glint-speckled sunspots
stumbled
through shivering foliage
a brittle
browned
broken-off leaf
gladly glittering
excitedly quivering
as the will of the wind
(the whisper of a faraway gale)
recited the tale of eternal repose.
​
~ alexandria lorién
published in Sundew issue 1
Can you . . . eat me alive?
​
softly plunge
indulgent fingers
through delicate skin
​
squish warm
wet flesh
between bloody palms
​
while supple lips
sing painful songs
​
and dull
​
into silence
and gratified sin
​
~ alexandria lorién
published in Sundew issue 1
May 2024
May 2024
May 2024
