Weaving reeds of harvested fate
Layering sheets of time, broken
Orienting them in a linear state
Placing trinkets and fetishes
Gathered from the dreamscape
Traversed in order to
Inter the wounded beast
Men climbing every side
Passing burial objects in a somber parade
The village gathers on the beach
To watch the flickering spectacle
They all step up, each in turn
Takes a whack at me
Each letting loose their own pent-up agonies
Saying their reserved three cents
Dropping obols in my mouth
To shuffle on past
As the choir sings, the ancient torch is lit
A whirling fuse set into the sand
Sparkling, the flame exudes a healing smoke
Cinders fly into the mounting mass of evidence
Before the crowd, it ignites
My final performance,
a disappearing act,
Seared in brains, written in
The pathways of the heart
Once burnt out, sand’s black as ash
And there’s a slick patch of gleaming glass
The crowd dissipates slowly
In a murmuring wave
At last, my spirit can rest in peaceful silence
On the shores of Death’s Bay
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 • 7 days ago
Comments (2)
Love this<3
Very surreal take on a fiery finale in you last words