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Stillborn (Free verse) by extantpoet
Earthen womb, the cosmic urn inlaid with its teeming mosaic,
holds the tiny dust within like a resigned sigh...
another deepless sleep as thin as memory.
Dry cradled, the child leaves no imprint on the ceaseless advance
of cycles, but evaporates, like a fragrance to the scuff of winds,
or damp heat from the steaming loam.
I feel like a mad secret, weeping the way actors do, with intention;
building drapes and towers, a cavernous hoary reef, fossiled
in precious amber, resin and residue bartered for a sense of
perspective, to wed her apportioned sacrifice to my wasted years, times
when I decayed, shedding latent gifts like cells of skin that float
aside
with a breath...
and I know I owe her life, my regal dust to scale the crusted summits,
to be oiled by the blush of passions, to be gloriously vainglorious,
to bite the air like a sandblasted skull, to bloat my gorging lusts
in feasts of decadence, like vitriol,
swallowing fires and beasts and propriety, vomiting cancers and turgid
feces,
and wailing at the billion white lies, the flexing galactic arm that
strangles
the heavens, the middle finger of providence
taunting life with eternity...
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
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Arithmetic Mean: 6.25
Weighted score: 5.1490035
Overall Rank: 5284
Posted: August 18, 2004 10:36 AM PDT; Last modified: August 18, 2004 10:36 AM PDT
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