I am a paler blue than you are used to

I am a paler blue than you are used to
I am milk from the breast
The blind man’s eye
The morning sky
 
 
I am a paler pink and it’s not like you think
I am the dead man’s skin
The winter cheek
Wheezing life, oblique
 
 
I am twisted spine wrapped in barbed wire and twine
The clink on dinner glass
The old barn in the wind
Weakened, thin
 
I’m a softer gray than I was yesterday
I am the abandoned school’s window
The late autumn fog
The belly-up pollywog
 
 
Trapped beneath ice
I am a horrid last gasp
The precipice teetering boulder
The secret the dying man told her
 
 
I am all that fizzles
The last millimeter of wick
I am the faint sound of haunting
That is actually nothing blowing in the wind
 
 
I am the last straw the cow devours
In a land of famine
Digested four times before
The final feast is never more
 
 
I am the fraying shroud
on the cold slab
the scratching dry quill
the unfinished words of the will
 
 
I am the ruins
behind the undergrowth
I am the ship on the ocean floor
a splinter on death’s door
 
 
I am a palor of green
A mold on the cheese
I am the child that floats
the hanged man’s throat
 
 
I am a gutter of leaves
after four months of rain
I am slime
I block the drain
 
 
I am ash on a bonnet
the clay on work boots
I am the broken ax
the recipient of forty whacks
 
 
I am all that decays
I am all that stops shining
I am all of the hues
of adieu
Published in: on October 9, 2013 at 2:00 am  Leave a Comment  
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