The shadowsA frame
nested on sculpture.
A pair of dogs
bark on - as if
instinct was timed
by remote detonation.
A mother watches as
her eldest
falls.
Ravages of snarls
and dust
reveal
a skeletal silhouette
in the penumbra.The air was silenceThe tragedy was not
that she could not
commiserate
the deceased,
shriveled frame
of her child
falling asleep
one last time
but the silence that
protruded afterwards
as a shrapnel
waiting diligently
to be tugged away
at night, cross-over
to a new promise.
The air was silence.
The water
waved back,
invited promises of
reprieve from the specters
infested within her.
A sense of new life,
insensate body of cluster,
trembling, awoken
and now permitted to grieve
among the archetypes
of stillness
among the destitute coroners
of guilt,
placing on her fingertips - rations
of more
silence.
Friday, May 23, 2025
