Laya Fisher

Blackstrap molasses sludges
through veins
made to siphon
blood to a heart.

Licorice whip snakes
tentacle out of a skull
meant to slow
and sleep.

Squid ink spurts
out of eyes
designed to glint
crystal.

These are my shadow hours
eclipsing the honeyed sun
and jellying the milk
of stars I once tasted.