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Poetry

  • Published at 05:28 pm March 14th, 2018
  • Last updated at 05:31 pm March 14th, 2018
Poetry
The shadows A 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 silence The 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.