August, and the days seep into dark sand.
Hems of lace trail behind each wave
that retreats from the shore, identical,
Bramble-month! My thoughts blacken
from red to ripe to rot amidst your thorns.
Dawn arrives wrapped in shawls
of spider-silk fog beaded with dewdrops;
dusk brings out spindle-legged shadows
that stand behind the pines in their vigil,
alight against the slant of the waning sun.
August, and the sun-bleached summer —
weightless as a bone washed ashore,
heavy as the rain-sodden cloak of the sky
embroidered with threads of lightning
— teeters on the knife-edge of a sunset,
then sinks into colder waters.
Ieva is a poet and scientist. Her first publication was at the age of nine, in the form of a short fairy tale. More recently, her poetry has been published in Ink Drinkers Magazine and in the Renard Press New Beginnings anthology. In 2021 she founded the Orangery Literary Society, an online community for up-and-coming writers. She currently lives on a tiny island in the middle of the Atlantic.