Untitled

November sun spreads across a grave

fresh dirt and a hole like a gaping wound

filled with sunshine on a crisp autumn day

the feeling of decay eats through the senses

mourners assemble like totem poles

so many faces, they all look blank

I watch looking for signs of life

 

I take my place among the totem poles

my face blank, my eyes dry, my mouth silent

a mind in turmoil knowing that grief

is words left unspoken at a grave side

my blood runs cold, and dries like red rust

the wind will carry this red dust for decades

leaving a rancid smell in its wake

 

The air feels stale; I struggle to breathe

oxygen only accelerates my decay

with each breath my flesh erodes

I spread the smell of rot around me

I’m at home with death marked by stones

I look across the corridors of stone markers

holes filled with bodies tormented by decay

 

I disintegrate into a heap of bones

no one recognizes me now

my organs have died chocked by red rust

my face peels with decay

a howl erupts out of my mouth

primal in nature, crying for a simpler time

 

Reviews

[Aaron the Baron]

words left unspoken at a grave side. The imagery in this is tingling. And the title, as blank as the graves. Bravo.