I mold bricks of shadow
echoing mourning
resounding above and below
stacking them in
neat little rows
Overwhelmed and breathless
I dove into the cold red earth
Bricking myself up
in a deep well of sorrow
Floated to the top
on hope and dreams
left undreamt yet
escaped into the sky
burning embers of desire
lighting journeys in the night
Left alone with my
hand-built shelves
lined with bottles of shimmering air
A short supply, I decided to
keep reserved for myself
Never touching my lungs
a resource too precious to become
a moist, sullied puff of stench
So much self-restraint
Come see the person
who never so much
as took a breath
Now standing in a coffin
they built for themself
An astonishing feat!
Reporters already
scurrying away
before the last stone sets
above my clay-stained head
Finally abandoned
to breathe easy
Rationing what air
I saved for myself
Easing into my invisible end
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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CH 20~ Party Down
Argento’s ninth (eighteenth in earth years) Birthday came and went Thursday, the thirteenth, and he’d already received his father’s gift, if you could call it that. You had to commit a fairly serious infraction to be cut off; the Arch-Baron was keeping up appearances and maintaining his own reputation as much as any sense of love or attachment to Argento with his “gift.”
By K.B. Silver Exclusive • 10 days ago
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