Poem 12

By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: October 28, 2010

now the end
dishwasher running
silence laying bricks around the room
i spill water

you die a plant grows
roof drips grief so thick
it cannot be carried by the sea
they let me touch

your body perfect, warm
made from every century, every sand
every sun

everysleeping army
the most dead i will ever be
pushed so far inside you
dark outside

the ward teeters
unspoken edge

air moves slowly into our bodies, entering a series of caves
we are bare bones

the time of falling trees
do we breath for more than the sum of our natural lives,
for someone to pause to compare us to a field of crickets?

our dreams blossom like tumours
we stare them down

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *