Friday, December 2, 2022

SLOW CLAP

Too coolly, the hours 
drift past while you cogitate, 

inaudible, colorless, 
and unable to be named.

The sound of nobody's voice 
ignites jealousy 

as you talk,
like a stone might, 
to the gravity of the situation: 

How the hell did any of us 
get to essence 
from before?

Was there light 
before breath? Your heart fights
to remember. 

Or is no one 
led back home 
by the slow claps and low talk 

which they heap on 
fallen heroes 

as they're cast into 
the after?