I have watched others age and die, yet I have not connected with the experience on an emotional level. My thoughts have to do with this dance my remaining wisp of mortality is doing with death. In my mind Death is a female – an encouraging, endearing, seductive figure with a lousy product to sell. My habitual weakness of flesh struggles with this seductive bully. I would like to juxtapose what little bit of ‘orange, hot licking life is left beneath an earthen pot’ with this sorrowful mistress.
I sway, the ghost of my own mortality
a frail apparition of cowardly hope
courts my constant companion
her lips a sorrowful seduction in blue
swallowing seed of my desire.
Encouraging bully, this mistress.
The hour is done down to ember.
No more flame licking the earthen pot
no more water no more steam
smiles in this waking dream.
Its echo stretches for a silent moment
alone in my embrace.
– B.D. Silverback
@B.D. Silverback 2013