Sunrise,
blood horizon
hides
other worlds.
Stars collide
comet’s blaze
burn lives
mellow now.
Ripe like
fallen fruit
I’m
soft around
the edge
bruised from
the constant
slam of
constellations.
Moon turns
a blind eye
feeds on our
ignorance.
Sunrise,
blood red
snow morning
the children
play on
malleable.
Victoria Mosley 