During the desultory days, reaching for a degree, the phallus of a god, the Dionysian bottle shaped to fit the world’s hands; I was lost in the liminal space between myelinated nerves. Colors were brilliant, enticing for a flash, then at once lost their integrity. Naked, I reached for what wasn’t mine and fell for consequence. Has anyone found their way home in monochrome? Calcified matter grained and sloughed off like muted memories. I settled into melancholy forgetting I was far, far from home.
cloud sheaths bare branches
heavenward-reaching for key
offending the gods
©2018, Amaya Engleking
Björn asks us to reflect on gray in haibun form. If you’d like to participate, head on over to dVerse for the complete prompt and instructions for linking your work.