Lying again on this wet floor,
the rain hasn’t stopped for weeks.
-
The waves rise, and rise,
enveloping my body again
revealing, then releasing skeletal remains
leaving them behind, like a note to say I’d left.
-
Submerged beneath these waves,
every creature was apprehensive
the bodies were in piles
the ash would fill our lungs.
-
The sky was red and distant,
the sun its watchful, cursing eye
it all seemed so simple then,
the complications
killed us.
-
A gradual progression.
We boiled, lying still
a hand left on the stove
a hundred thousand killed.
-
Lost between the bars,
our starving stomachs cried for help
the tears we shed were soon replenished
in this underwater hell.
About the Creator
Reece Beckett
Poetry and cultural discussion (primarily regarding film!).
Author of Portrait of a City on Fire (2020, Impspired Press). Also on Medium and Substack, with writing featured… around…
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