"Everyday in every way I’m getting better and better" - Emile Coue
Tuesday, April 7, 2020
Death-song
my hair
bathed in snake's oil under pink moon
my skin
a blasphemy of brine
from slaughtered bones & tusks
watch me
glide wearing the red
crown of destruction
count your hours
because i will smother your every
breath
weigh your coins & fancy
clothes because i will empty every
streets & buildings you have polka-stamped
your name
i will slither-slit
lungs of your weakest lot & then
i will come for
you
the death-song
pealing in your marbled churches-
the nightmare-beast
clawing your heart to stillness-
you own nothing
in this plague of war
but a mote of dust
leave me
alone
until my very own children
come
& kill me
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, in the time of the plague, hosted by Bjorn Rudberg. Pub doors open by 3pm EST.
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Oh this reminds me so of the mask of the red death by Poe. This:
ReplyDeletemy hair
bathed in snake's oil under pink moon
my skin
a blasphemy of brine
and how you come for the strongest last.
Until the end, where there is a glimmer of hope, in the sated beast.
Thank you for the inspiration.
DeleteInteresting thought at the end of one's own children bringing the plague.
ReplyDeleteI never thought of it this way Frank.
DeleteWow! That is really heavy... what an eyeopener! Until our children come with Hospice and lay us to rest!
ReplyDeleteChilling and accurate portrait of COVID-19. The children that come to kill it is the vaccine, I'm guessing. I feel little remorse in this matricide. May it come to pass.
ReplyDeleteYes, you are right Jade. May it all come to pass.
Delete"I will slither-slit
ReplyDeletelungs of your weakest lot & then
i will come for
you. . ." Chilling, but true.
Beautiful and chilling. <3
ReplyDeleteThis took my breath away.
ReplyDeleteStrong and stirring, Grace. Shivers!
ReplyDeleteWhen facing mortality it is curious how many people still will total up their life by the amount of shit they have accumulated.
ReplyDeleteIn the end none of it we can take with us. All it takes is one coming home to give us something that would kill us too.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Bjorn, about the echoes of The Red Death. The language is so dark and evocative, especially phrases such as ‘blasphemy of brine / from slaughtered bones & tusks’; ‘slither-slit / lungs of your weakest lot’; and ‘nightmare-beast / clawing your heart to stillness’.
ReplyDeleteEvery hair on my body stood on end.
ReplyDeleteVery Noir, yet beautiful and hopeful. Had to read it aloud again, the words slither so nicely from the tongue. Would be a good one to perform. Thanks! Playing with your betters makes you better ;-)
ReplyDeleteThe virus is the ugliest thing I have ever seen....you capture its ominous and slithery menace to perfection in this scary poem.
ReplyDeletePowerful poem about a consuming plague...you captured the vile, merciless nature of the beast!
ReplyDeletethe death-song
ReplyDeletepealing in your marbled churches-
the nightmare-beast
clawing your heart to stillness-
Oh wow. Oh wow. This is brave and haunting all at the same time! Such a powerful voice given to this invisible beast!
Oh, these lines alone:
ReplyDelete"my skin
a blasphemy of brine
from slaughtered bones & tusks"
So evocative!
So intense...a beastly creature this is...!
ReplyDelete