The Sky Is Dead

The sky is dead.
A muddy sun aches in memory; an
unconscious fire, leaping
into dark waters.

Loneliness fades in deep congested
pressure, a million sea
couldn’t lift her waste
from submergence.

Salty seaweed slowly crept down her throat,
entangling itself in soft
asphyxiation. Her beautiful body swelled
with the sea,
tides turned and turned over
purple lips in a green dress,
spitting her raw
meat shell
out into silver moon beams.

The wind stalled after striking
her cold cheek. Shiftless.
Idle in a sodden night,
offering nothing more for
to feed on.

So, life takes her flesh,
sacrifices her meat to
micro bacteria,
burning her bones into the

a fossil of destitution.


20 thoughts on “The Sky Is Dead

  1. powerful emotions you evoke through your words…..every word cries out, but with a poetic style…

    loved this last lines,
    “burning her bones into the
    a fossil of destitution.”

  2. Love this. Again, images that make me squirm, but I feel your poetry becoming controlled, and defined, consistent and tied together beautifully from beginning to end. Carry on, hold on, it’s beautiful Maggie, even when morbid. : ) ~ Lily

  3. Yes! That’s exactly the evocative, compelling, primordial prose we all invite in, and will respond to within our deepest depths-uncomprehending on certain levels and yet responding to in so many deeper ones. Keep speaking to me. Cellular. 🙂

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