Poetry

cold embrace

By Wallace - 18 April 08

I embrace these sweet patterns
arise from cold cold embers
to inhale swift pains in Hell

his designs
burnt into my eyes
silent orbs
inducing
reducing
seducing
depth

blush flushed and forced
piercing through the flesh
words barely read instead
in eulogy a voice low and hoarse
prior to my burial march

hearing the cries echo
searing into dull aches
when all is empty and without taste
"Such a waste" repeated
until it has no meaning
only shame

draped in black within a hearse
the line steady
irreversible without rehearsal
my parents trailing
plodding ahead
old age outliving youth

in my coffin
somehow lips and cheeks still vigorous red
amidst the blue blue skin
lids forced open

jasmine and incense
impart traces of stranger scents
from a mortician's embalming fluids
set beside the pallor of death

the last scoop of earth
shoved onto this berth
the final resting place
but not my end

here I live
but not in peace

here I lie
yet I did not die

here I smile
with a smile that doesn't reach my eyes
painted onto curled ruby lips
muted and terrible
despised