Fuse
When a battery corrodes it leaks
but life, life slow burns,
nothing leaks out
until the energy explodes.
Peaceful and violent death may come
but inner death is a birthing
it cycles and recycles many times
a slow burn
until that womb you hide and carry
from one dark node to another
that too explodes.
Then the light shovels you out
one smoldering organ at a time
until you are full of a hollow grace,
then you can take your leave,
and die in the world shucked
from flesh-stealing time,
but the surprise is in the fuse
(it always is),
that will bring you wide-eyed
to an afterlife as if its length
had not stuttered or spluttered
for one instant
since the thought of you existed.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2020
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