Apocalyptic Morning


She studied the skies,

her eyes a compass of light.

She opened her mouth,

counting clouds,

counting birds flying past

in rumbles of feathers.

It all meant something.

She knew.

Every one of those bird eyes

held a piece of a word.

She longed to string them up, like dark beads,

and press them against the light,

hoping to decipher the end.

An end.

From the promise of skies.

-----

Valentina Cano is a student of classical singing who spends whatever free time either writing or reading. Her works have appeared in Exercise BowlerBlinking CursorTheory TrainCartier Street PressBerg Gasse 19, Precious Metals, A Handful of Dust, The Scarlet Sound, The Adroit Journal, Perceptions Literary Magazine, Welcome to Wherever, The Corner Club Press, Death Rattle, Danse Macabre, Subliminal Interiors, Generations Literary Journal, Super Poetry Highway, Stream Press, Stone Telling, Popshot, Golden Sparrow Literary Review, Rem Magazine, Structo, The 22 Magazine, The Black Fox Literary Magazine, Niteblade, Tuck Magazine, Ontologica, Congruent Spaces Magazine, Pipe Dream, Decades Review, Anatomy, Lowestof Chronicle, Muddy River Poetry Review, Lady Ink Magazine, White Masquerade Anthology and Perhaps I'm Wrong About the World. You can find her here: http://carabosseslibrary.blogspot.com


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