Breath of Death
Inertia
reigns. Tick-tock slows.
Rising chest
slowly falls.
Heavy heart. Blackest night.
Brain freezes. Souls starve.
Words cease.
Proof in pudding.
Unopened mail. Gas
gauge “empty”.
Sunshine gone. Lights
out.
Nobody home. Dirty dust.
Hands are cold. Heart is stone.
Shriveled plants.
Cupboards bare.
Moldy
food. Homeless
shelters.
Birds
of prey. Mousetrap prisons.
Flattened carcass. Broken heart.
Creaky boards. Cold and barren.
Stale air. Trashy clutter.
Newspaper stacks. Dank drapes.
Mail in bundles.
Dead are they.
Smell of decay.
Empty lives.
Inertia
thrives.
Copyright © October 2004 Amy Allison
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