By: Rachel Chitofu

Because in the past, you fell in love with the wrong woman,
when I show you the scar of my heart’s sparked love for you,
you mistake its burning intensity for infidelity or insult.
Its redness resembles a moon’s incongruous mouth
duct-taped by the sun’s disorientated aneurysms,
Like the dust rising from a soccer net after the last pounding ball.
gillded arches of sundressed gold,
swelling with the ripeness of sweepy flowers.
The soul’s sins scream,
flashes radiograph on the silent wall,
swimming in the heart’s fierce mortality,
hiding, autumn’s amber mortuary
of blinking false blooms.