Mark R Slaughter


My Fossil - Poem by Mark R Slaughter

Bowels in pain

Thro' wrench of torsion

Call down to
Death's open mouth

Calls back
Thro' woody tongue
Renting drum

He hears

The hideous craftsman
Frames out a box

Comfort for the corpse
Eternal

Thoughts infernal
Open wound of mind

When I carbonise
Fossilise

Will partnered parts of oak

Betray

A sort of cloak?

SU LPH UR

Through the stench

Hell

Drizzles
Upwards!

To go

I croak.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012


Comments about My Fossil by Mark R Slaughter

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Poem Edited: Tuesday, May 8, 2012


[Hata Bildir]