When there is nowhere left to bury
bodies. When throats are slit silent.
When our last language is a creaking of the gallows.
When all of our best are beneath us.
When those above us are saliva slick teeth -
spring trap jaws, snapping and grinding.
When all of the colors of collateral damage
have fallen face first in the dust.
When every bandage is a rusty ruin soaked through.
When there's noting left to do,
but cauterize the wounds
and sear the flesh.
Yes -
the quickening of burning.
For Izy's prompt at Real Toads
Friday, September 9, 2016
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About Me
- Maude Lynn
- Anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days. ---Flannery O'Connor
10 comments:
Yikes. Very powerful poem, MZ. Especially images like the saliva slick teeth. The use of quickening is so terrific here, as a source of life force, but also perhaps a hastening to the end. Thanks. k.
"every bandage a rusty ruin soaked through"........your imagery paints the course we are charting. "the quickening of burning" is such a stellar line.
Strong stuff... terrifying images...
The imagery of that field hospital where I can almost hear the sound of the feldsher's saw, is as terrifying as gangrene in a trench.
Terrifying..War, a hell we humans create. Perhaps we are the devil.
'When throats are slit silent' - fantastic line. 'Quickening' made me think of quicklime.
I do admire all those adverbial clauses of time... Time for a burning.
sounds like hell fire to me
much love...
"When throats are slit silent" is my favorite line.
Wow (as usual).
Good for you for trying this. I couldn't get my head around writing about a thing without mentioning it.
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