It's been yesterday

Melancholic dampness -
a sponge as her front
covets her expected.
The expected.
Her prerogative snatched,
she sits aside.

Through the valley
of her shuddering limbs,
recoiling in pain
her purblinded eyes
notice the pestle:

In the corner
a sacrificial beast awfully de-hearted,
silently lime-lit,
stoning the leaves.
Treacherous leaves.

A poisoned palette leaves her be.

From womb to Welkin
unswerving she leaves.
with the leaves.

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July

The blue above
forming July sky.
Summer harvest,
bliss.
Feathered flock ripple 'round,
sheepish smiles being bare.
Warm horizon,
He watches.
Toil,
toil away.
He watches composed.
At Us his keen eye falls.
Hack, sweat and fruit.
Yield in the yellow
the glow sets us away.
For it is Us who stomach
June, July or October.
A furnessed cringe sees to Us
as We tick around the ring.