Enough Dying Breaths To Last A Lifetime

A poem, d****t, stop asking me to describe s**t

Brother,

who will water the plants?

-If there’s green in this sand, then it has a slow-thirst.

 

What about maintaining your words?

-I’ve no clever air-sculptures worth preserving.

 

Brother,

have you ever thought about being stranded?

-Everything’s within walking distance, given time.

 

With dead cities and no ones, who’s to help you?

-Handless, I carry the waterskin in my teeth.

 

Brother,

what about a bout of sickness?

-I clean my own toilets, if that’s what you mean.

 

With no one to take care of your dying days?

-I reckon my corpse to be long-haired, unshaven.  Yes

 

Surely

you know empty worlds don’t help strangers?

-Untroubled, I’ve lived blind and invisible this long.

Reviews

[roarke]

Expressions, insights, a dialogue we all inevitable push around like vegetables on a plate... we are all strangers on the path. The theme here is vast, the "words" abstract, yet precisely individual. this is like an anthem or psalm. A change for you wordsmith, your talents and insights reach far.