Doing a poetry folio at the moment. Below is my attempt at a sestina, with a suitably witty name. Have a few other things to talk about - so will post again shortly. Until then, enjoy. :)

Sextina

rnSitting on a walnut table liesrna dish of water, a raft of petalsrnfloating on the liquid silver. the carcass of an assassinated flowerrntortured via trial by fire,rnnow lays silent, all alone

amidst the wreckage of a life. A lonernprostitute takes a blood red fragment, lies,rnsmiles for her mark, her eyes afirernwith polystyrene passion. Lips like petalsrnmoisten with a darting tongue that flowersrnafter hours budding. Moonlight curls her hair silver,

and strokes her gentleman’s chest, a sliverrnfeeling the pavement, shining alonernnear a tangled sewage’s floweredrnbloom. A golfer’s eyes see the liernof the target, milky flesh with petalsrnstrewn on her breasts, he skin on fire

with blood boiling on its firedrnpath through her heart. His breath mists silverrnas he pants, his fingers stroke against petalsrnof flesh while her mind retreats, alonernand away from the mechanical act of of lyingrnwith year another stranger. Consider - flour,

eggs, milk, a bouquet of flowers rnto brighten the home, while the man firesrnfluids into membranes, collapsing to liernatop her thigh, his fingers holding silverrnrings that adorn her lobes. Her flesh’s loanrnhas now come due, he smiles, backpedals

to his wallet, notes are flung like petalsrnfloat in the wind. The plastic flowersrnmark him gone, she lies face-down, alone,rnand shudders. She shakes, her chest molten fire rnas she coats her body with rose-silveredrnwater and scrubs her legs and sex with lye.

Her fleshly petals are dry, like firernthat burns through flowers. Minted silverrnlies clenched in her palm, she sleeps alone.

Alcata’riel.

-Andiyar