I’ve been rummaging
through our graveyard
stirring up dusty ghosts
as I forage
for crumbs of a life
amongst the splintered
bones
they don’t lie still
our bones
they poke me
in my sleep
with their
compound
fracturings
the jumble
of their burying
jabs me
impaling
my hard fought peace
upon shards
of yesterdays
littered with the sooty detritus
of futures
that would have been
should have been
if only
I hadn’t immolated us
I root
disheveled and thirsty
amongst Golgotha’s leavings
hell-bent
on order
promising our remains
they can rest eternally
given a proper burial
I scour the charnel
splitting my fingernails
on the stones
scrabbling a bloodied
inscription
I cleanse our skeletons
with endless tears
press them gently
autumnal leaves
vaseline’d in an encyclopedia
capturing all the scarlets
I slither from the necropolis
snakely
on my traitorous belly
groveling to Mictecacihuatl
sniveling entreaties
for redemption
our bones
snap
pierce the heaving soil
and my gut
The past doesn’t like to be moved around, I suppose. Dusty ghosts object.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes they do. Problem is they also haunt when left in a jumble
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very true
LikeLiked by 1 person
Amazing piece of writing. You are inspired indeed.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! I really appreciate it
LikeLike
👌👌👌👌
LikeLiked by 1 person
😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
😉😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Another stunner!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLike
This is very descriptive, yet elegant in its delivery. Almost story-like. It’s simple to imagine while reading. It’s a great image creator. And the words themselves – very well chosen and structured within its pacing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well thank you! That’s an incredibly descriptive and elaborate comment. 😉
LikeLike