My Closed Casket
The lid hums like a throat that cannot sing,
Sealed wood remembers my last breath’s wing.
Lilies stare with their white, blind eyes,
Their perfume is pity—how it lies.
I stitched my silence with a needle of bone,
The air outside has learned my tone.
Fingers folded, a prayer mislaid,
The earth rehearses what it’s always said.
Moonlight drips through the chapel glass,
A ghost of me watching my body pass.
They will say I was calm, composed, divine—
But grief wears my face beneath the pine.
Now the worms, those patient brides,
Beginning the banquet of my nonexistence.
My name dissolves, like salt, inside.
Resigned to that place, before I was born.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
