apart from the decay

Written by: nathan martin

  
  an old shed leans crookedly in the tall 
grass.

  a door is lifted and opened.

 like a warn vinyl record to the needle 
rusty hinges 
snap and crackle as they turn.  

  between slight variations in tone metallic
 
yesterdays speak through hinged lips. 

i am apart from the decay they say.

  
now little is inside except some dust with 
a
 few oddities scattered around.

 a dented paint can that had been knocked 
over, 
the paint lieing on the floor in a puddle. 

   dried and splintered out in an ornate 
pattern
 in shades of dark yellow.

it seems to innocent and pure for its 
surroundings.

the paint speaks through its flat chipped 
throat lowly.

 i am apart from the decay it say's.


  outside the sun overhead has learned

  to speak in parables but the dandilions

  dont seem to mind.