After Someone’s Death
Like pages torn from old phone directories
When there was a shock
that abandoned a long, pale, sparkling comet's tail.
It covers us. It makes the television pictures fluffy.
It gets comfortable cold beads on the electrical cables.
You can in any case rearrange along on skis in the colder time of year sun
through forests where keep going year's leaves hold tight.
Like pages torn from old phone directories —
every one of the names gobbled up by the virus.
It's as yet lovely to feel the heart thumping.
However, the shadow frequently appears to be more genuine than the body.
The samurai looks immaterial
adjacent to his covering of dark winged serpent scales.
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Silence
I don’t remember the day the world ended. But I do remember the day I noticed. That photo was it, but I did not know what it meant until I sat in my darkened bathroom, staring at the newly developed film. The street was neither empty, nor abandoned. It was dead. The colours of the flowers wrapped in that red ribbon caught my eye, and as I crouched to take that photo, I could hear only the lonely silence of a graveyard after dark.
By Alexander McEvoy5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Hats off to your work!