The Last Dying Star

your love is the last dying star

i can’t reach its fading light

grasping at the growing dark

ripping vast cavity into night

so far from glittered evening sky

we’ve come to find it empty

one by one fond memories die

lingering long words you left me

flicker till the blackness reigns

and all that’s left leaves misery

cold heart vacuum of this love

lost without celestial guide

your love was the very last star

i watched it fade away

as distance grew interminably

and with death met cursed day




The Gravedigger

the gravedigger crosses my path every morning
on the road bisecting the cemetery.
the casket pincers dangle
on the green John Deer
by the rope and the pails and shovels
darting between halves of plotted lawns
dotted with names no longer spoken
and where daisies upward yawn

cars pass on the oblivious highway

to jobs, to doctors, to cafes
to escape, full of worry
apathy, joy, disappointment
mad at the traffic jam
mad at the news
their wives/husbands/friends

road rage — life rage

while bodies sleep cold
beneath, expired

tired we drive
blinking numbly
at lights that tell us

to stop
go, stop

if we deviate
we lose time

but if we deviate
we gain life

the gravedigger reminds me
the cemetery waits

my breath cannot be wasted
unless I forget
I am alive

~ Em ~



the stalks of young bluebells break ground in January
— just when we are at our lowest.

i stare out the kitchen window
and ponder their determination,
that black skies don’t deter a greening leaf, a reach
toward the darkest kind of light.
washing dishes, zombified by
the mystery of life — of temporary death — i forget
that i, too, am silently bursting cold surface;
having been
long lost in the snow drifts of heart’s winter
where no one could hear my yowl
only the brown squirrel, curious why
i wasn’t preparing for spring


~ Em ~


Dead Skin

curling like the dead skin

collaring young birch

tempered by the cold wind

frozen earth’s church

whistle through the branches

listen for blank tune

cover ears with fabric

deny near spirits’ turn

baring headwinds’ anger

weighted with despair

gravel whittles bones

bare feet bleeding far

~ Em



*Photo by me.

Neither Bones Nor Fingernails

forever in the realm of never-ness
tasteless air curls ‘round eaves

jolted by the ghost of you
I kneel on bent and tender knees

neither bones nor fingernails
can scrape your words away

paint me with the cleanest mud
and dry this pain with day

the never holds forever’s marks
as catalog of dreams

as mortuary of all that failed
in lifelike memory

~ Em


*Photo source: pinterest

I Am No Short Story

i am no short story,
my dogeared pages stuff tall shelves;
my tattered chapters only limited
by certain words i choose to hide.

no quick read can you make of me,
nothing tailored to reader’s eye;
thumb through at your own risk
in plain sight my layers hide.

i am no short story,
i demand your un-clocked time;
your eager curiosity seeks details
only a life lived fully provides.

~ Em


*Photo credit: Pinterest

The Gods Know I’m Coming

black and white naturally
stacked in mirrored mortality

no escape up above
down below opens wide

the gods know I’m coming

forever at the shore’s edge
flirting with the tide

dancing on the surface
ducks mock my human stride

the gods know I’m dying

always the eager greeter
the water opens up

never a locked entry
step into the watery brine

the gods know I’m trying

to see how far down it goes
ripples run fun house illusion

hands of lotus grab at toes
rendered helpless

down I go

~ Em


*Photo by me