Title: Soul Sucker
Medium: Dry Pastels
More Ascender’s Dry Pastels on this blog. Request a print.

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She is keeping a close eye on her black words. today they are of
soot and smell of a burnt wish. a stone dwarf true to her earth-
rituals, she settles. seen walking over the grass, his back turned.
the turning is a twisting of the grass.
her eyes burn deep in their skulls, watching the book make arid
gestures among the bibles and biographies.

My skins. my skins. I have made moons stutter. I have wounds
to give you, and poppies.
my eye is a chisel to help you unpeel.
I have an anniversary to keep, preserved in icy lace.
the birds are leaving. the birds wound my eye with sound.
my vampire wishes are seen over the sea, are roses carved out of the
dark.

Your face is the sound of green linen. of a falling ruched blouse.
your face tells me to mind my ghost workers, who hammer angrily at
the tide. you left me such a small legacy. one twist of a paper
smile. and a dog-eared testimony, written on bark. your face
this evening. green in the centre of the light, a witch-word
of grasses and childsong.

I buried today like a small dead mole.