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
tragedies
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
life
to feed on.

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

a fossil of destitution.