Death and the Maiden

Fragments of scalp

Hades’ long, arched back

Like a geological plume

Long since cooled

Not within the Earth, but

Of the Earth

Emaciated arms

Won’t let go, a quarry

Cocooned and without

Resistance, yet no

Comfort found in the

Folds of an old bedspread.


Where were you going?

Where had you been in your

Funerary dress, unfit for

This evening’s programme? Now

Lifeless writhing

Maggoty and dumb

Tapered-limbed  and

Disarmed, an

Eye on this World

and one on the next

Calmly Accepting

your sudden insect Fate20160122_052213000_iOS


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