The Foundations

It’s all

crumbling.

We ignored the cracks,

now rebar whines

somewhere deep inside,

and the foundations begin

to groan.

 

A cloud crosses

before the moon,

and I wonder how close

Hati is to him now.

Someday he’ll be caught.

The wolf will

devour

the moon,

in the end.

 

Even the music

has faded.

Each note blurs into

the next,

as they all rush past,

without notice.

 

Everything reeks of mildew

and rot.

Neglect.

I hear crows

in the distance,

and the foundations

groan louder.

 

It’s time to wake up,

dear ones,

or we’re lost.

 

5-12-19

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Her

The cockroach scampers

over a half-eaten

apple

on the altar.

The sick-sweet stench

of rot

hangs thick,

like a noxious

mist.

 

The air is littered

with dying things.

The wind shrieks

and there is a whirring

in my ears.

I can not keep

my balance.

 

Everything

breaks down

around me;

a rolling process

separating

what is

into less and less

substantial

forms.

 

I can taste the stale

mold,

dusty and choking,

its spores

filling my lungs.

 

I greet

Her–

the reality behind

life’s illusion;

its nourishment,

its origins,

as well as its

endings.

5-3-18

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