Dark Matter Poem by Rebecca Papillon
Dark Matter
Taut skin of death
Pallor of onions
Mouth open
catching air
Priest chants ineffectually
-silly man-
he bastes her brow
(oily crosses won't
save her now)
Brand-new ear-rings
straight to landfill
New skirt, new blouse
-what a hoax-
to furnish wormholes
When I go, don't
waste breath on idle
rosaries. Dice my flesh
for science, send me
starkers into the
furnace (what care I)
less sentient than apple pips
less conscious than the rind
I'll bang and pop
like fat in the pan
like hydrogen exploding
like stars into dust.
Oh, cry if you must.
I enjoyed this dark, care not of pomp and ceremony write. A laugh out loud moment over your last stanza which also gives a graphic, gruesome, lingering image.
Thank you Simone. I also like the ending but am still trying to figure out how to rework the first stanza. I always find the hardest thing is starting the poem. By the end it's found its rhythm but then the opening is out of touch with the rest of it! I loved your piece 'Anorexia' - very powerful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 5:51:54 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A good start with a nice poem, Rebecca P. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.