Saturday, February 4, 2012

“Words” © Mike Absalom 2011

He’s still breathing. That’s too much pain.
Let him silky slide like a black shadow
whitening through the cracks in the marble slabs
and on into the claymore earth
to feed nematodes and worms.

The long legged spiders in the corners of him
were only spindly syllabubs,
slipping away, and scuttle-climbing under the thatch,
hanging in the eaves, gathering dust above him in their

crinkled leaves, falling brown, to the ground,
and then into the earth,
lying breathless it seems,
to feed nematodes and worms
and tomorrow’s deadlines.

No comments:

Post a Comment