When A Wolf

When a wolf beds down with a sea salt rose,

her tongue's drawn like a tide

to the moon/bloom between her sand sphinx paws

until she wakes with tender jaws -

thorn-pricked,

and bleeding petals.

For Dr. LolaMouse's challenge at Real Toads

The Studious Zombie

The studious zombie resolves
to read the classics from A to Z
and adhere to a strict diet of smart people.
She starves midway through A Tale of Two Cities.

It is, indeed, the worst of times.

For Fireblossom Friday at Real Toads

The Clock

I swallow the last of the birdsong,
slow,
and shatter the cup.
Just for the noise.
Just for the noise.

Then, I hitch up the dead horse
and drag the sun till it comes up;
shooing stars away
with what's left of my voice.

It's another morning for me
to carry in.
Another night
buried beneath the still hands

of the clock
set by you
and stopped.

For some reason, this one has given me fits.  Here's the revised version:

I swallow the last of the birdsong slow
and shatter the cup for the noise.
Then I hitch up the dead horse
to drag in the sun
and shoo the stars away
with my voice.

It's another morning
for me to carry in.
Another night buried
beneath the still hands

of the clock
set by you
and stopped.

Any thoughts?

For Peggy's prompt at Real Toads

Silence

I've never cared for silence.
It's strict, stern-faced, and harsh.
I prefer the disheveled quiet
of spent lovers and gentled hearts.

For Open Link Monday at Real Toads

Harvesting Hips

Hold your hurry
till the heat
breaks.
Ready rose hips
yield
to a touch.

Getting Imagist (?) for Kerry's challenge at Real Toads.  Also submitted to Poetry Pantry.