Courtship On The Edge Of The World

The girl whose face was time
was sought after for love, though she was immune.
Sailors dashed their splintering ships at her feet
and crawled the carapace of the rising moon.

Beauty is the star-marker, the sailors called,
and your visage the horizon we perish to unfurl.
She scoffed and said, my face is a mask
and you a troupe of clambering fools.

Behold, behind you, infinity spread!
cried the sailors as one, then fell down dead.

Dropping the guise, the girl confessed
my face is a cipher, the void my nightdress.

for Sunday Muse #88. I have the flu so be kind, please.


That closing line, especially, is incredible.

Love this piece. And I hope you feel much better very soon.
I've met girls like her before . . . lol
Loved the take.

Get better soon, Shay . . :)
hedgewitch said…
Well, illness doesn't seem to have held you back from producing another exceptional and totally original piece.The very first line sets the standard and each stanza holds its own, as we get a look at the impossibility of reading our own face, or believing the reflection others flicker back to us. When I next look in the mirror, I wonder if what I see will be anything *but* time.
Here's hoping you feel better soon, and thanks for crawling to pen and paper to give us this one.
Carrie Van Horn said…
Wow this is one of the most beautiful poems I have ever read! Oh to capture time! We are fools to even try! This is another absolutely amazing piece of writing Shay!!! I hope you get to feeling better soon my friend!
Kerry O'Connor said…
This is wonderful, Shay. I do love a macabre sea shanty.
Sherry Blue Sky said…
She is ill, and still gives us a poem encompassing infinity. Fantastic!
Truedessa said…
ha - She was a master of disguise. I hope you feel better. Happy 2020!
Love those last two lines!
Feel better, Shay.
Susie Clevenger said…
Goodness, feeling ill doesn't hinder your ink at all. So love how you ended this. Time is a sneaky bitch.