Meteorite
I went out to remember the dead.
Found nothing but drinks that dulled
Flatscreen TV's
Flatscreen faces
People quietly flatlining their minds.
Waiting for it to end.
I drift away from the fishes cast in amber
From the eagles nesting by the river
where we were stopped in traffic.
We are linked by insanity
By grief, by loss, by laughing
to salve the wounds
the ever-bleeding side
of life we are cast into
molded by
separated from others more and more.
Each time another falls
it crumbles and narrows the path
till the iron structure shows through
Dull,
Heavy,
Utilitarian in purpose and design
As our friends' colors shred away.
We look across
low lidded
Heart melted and solidified so many times
Charred
Blackened
Dense
drawn dark and inward
at having passed through so many stars.
It will never end,
Not till we all are dust,
scattered, bled together
as we do in life.
We drink to thin our blood
constrict our cells in laughter
reweave time
to our better liking
wash and wash and wash
our tears and pain away
till our hollowed past
blows through us from the inside
so many emptied rooms
wind through chambers once tapestried
with the livid veins
Of those we loved.
About the Creator
Nyssa Lyon
I grew up as a half breed between the North and South. After about 14 years of travels, I settled down in New Orleans for a while. My child and I moved to the mountains, and now I'm trying to capture these strange birds of my life in print.
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Celestial Bodies
“The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.” He always began it the same way. We would get a delicious shiver down our backs, warm our palms up to the fire, and settle a little deeper into the hard ground. The work trips began in early spring, and lasted to late fall, frost limning the tents in the slanting light. Between was an endless high summer, full of heat and long, lazy days spent swatting mosquitoes and trudging up and down hills. My father’s job was identifying the tiny invasive insects that burrow deep beneath the tree’s flesh, withering them bit by bit, until what was once lush forest hung skeletal hands up to the sky. It was a bittersweet one, bitter in its mission and unfolding story, sweet in the long cool draughts of clearest air, the vistas of frothing green, the simplicity of days kept not by clocks, but by the basic celestial forces that have ruled us far longer than any watch hand. father’s job was identifying the tiny invasive insects that burrowed deep beneath the tree’s flesh, withering them bit by bit, until what was once lush forest hung skeletal hands up to the sky. It was a bittersweet one, bitter in its mission and unfolding story, sweet in the long cool draughts of clearest air, the vistas of frothing green, the simplicity of days kept not by clocks, but by the basic celestial forces that have ruled us far longer than any watch hand.
By Nyssa Lyon3 years ago in Horror
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