The Dying Body Chronicles 24: Furnishings now empty of warmth

How do you write your name
in the language of grief?

Do you put each letter
between silent hyphens?

Do you count the vowels
for wailing & gnashing of teeth?

How do you put the bones
of your palms into prayer?

& the naked absence of sound,
how do you explain it to your god?

Do you even sleep?
& when you are wide awake,

do you dream of how hollow
your room sounds without those

furnishings of warm bodies?
Do you remember which letter

starts your monologue
to your blurred face

under the shower?
Do you hear your body scream?

How do you visit that emptiness?
Do you drive or do you walk down

that gulf? & what did you find
at the ravine of your chest?

Do you remember the language
of amnesia? Can you forget

how a body curls into itself
before their gods?


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7 comments
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You always create such beautiful imaginary and I am always happy to go on this creative journey with you, as you weave your words into magical poems and tales xxxxx

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Excellent poem, of a great polemic lyrical force. Its images, in the real and the surreal, confront us with the conflict of the expression of the truth of being in the face of pain and loneliness, before its transcendence by the word. Thank you and best regards, @warpedpoetic.

Tu post ha sido votado por @celf.magazine, proyecto curatorial y revista digital sobre arte y cultura en Hive. Únete a nuestra comunidad y comparte tu talento con nosotros.
Your post has been voted by @celf.magazine, curatorial project and digital magazine about art and culture in Hive. Join our community and share your talent with us.



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