springing that shaft, she
had come so sagging far:
from summery nightgowned mornings
sight of dew on the outside and
possessing steadfast belief in shine
to this smearged lipstick and eyes
matteward to a cobwebby self
she. to the she wanting stop wanting halt
wanting cease. punctuation and the end
of the sentence. so
she kites she swims that stillcool air
dips in concrete collision
and choice. shattering liquiding smash
fluiding the bulge cold void. her milky skeleton.
and now lightness
spill flush dark away.
she would have been dazed
by the hot of her her. pooled nothing
begs at substance. she would have been
pleased
to have seen it.
The feeling that I had when finishing reading this was incredible sadness, but also perhaps it is better not to know the future.
ReplyDeletewould you ever be interested in knowing the future? your future or, say, a century or two from now?
ReplyDeleteNo, it is too frightening..
ReplyDelete