The sun salutes by Constance Bourg

Unsplash- Rampal Singh

The sun salutes

After Sylvia Plath

by Constance Bourg

The bruised knee does not ask why—
It wakes up at 7 am,

stilled with me where I
breathe the air given,

attempt to hold these
fragile pebbles, vibrant lamps

in the dim morning light. These
hands are moving planets,

stop them from falling,
and the morning sun lies like

an egg on top of blessings,
on top of houses like

Duplo blocks, scattered flakes
of a Promethean project, six-sided

shavings of a radiant white,
immovable as rock is on

Sundays. I crack open my
gift of terrene joy, and my eyes

narrow, then widen. And my
hands travel to my lips

loud like a pulsar. And my
debris gets mixed up in my hair.

@Constance Bourg

Constance Bourg (she/her) was born in a seaside town in Belgium and went to school in Bruges. She has a BA in the Humanities from the Open University where she also took creative writing. Her writing has appeared in various (online) journals and anthologies, including the Emma Press Anthology of Illness and Atelier of Healing: poetry about trauma and recovery by Squircle Line Press. She is chronically ill with ME/CFS. Her chapbook of golden shovel poems is available for free from her website:

Gabriela Marie Milton
#1 Amazon Bestseller Author
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow :I Love Poems and Poetic Prose
Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings

4 Comentarios Agrega el tuyo

  1. Congratulations on you wonderful Poem! 👏👏

    Le gusta a 1 persona

  2. jonicaggiano dice:

    Congratulations nice to meet you here, lovely introspective piece.

    Le gusta a 1 persona

  3. Ingrid dice:

    ‘loud like a pulsar’ is such a potent image. Wonderful, Constance!

    Le gusta a 1 persona

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