Matthews Welschire

The Breathing Of The Dead Ear - Poem by Matthews Welschire

Twisted knots within holding hands.
What is this instant form?

Smile away Elizabeth. Do not seem happy here!
Not after you explained the ribbon and ring -

Hardened carbon that sixty-two years prior
knew only you.

At this moment you hold younger hands as
systems shut down. Organs find white flags.

Younger hands open doors: code blue halls,
white-coated member mess hall: dark.

Turn my back, nesting and ill,
eyes stone bruised.
Smock and gurney and sutured whole.

The crumbs: once delicate marrow
Now ten fingers
singed in pumice, in dust
on castle wall.

This is the color of water,
the breathing of the dead ear.

I am done.
Float dust to Cerberus.

Comments about The Breathing Of The Dead Ear by Matthews Welschire

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, September 10, 2013

Poem Edited: Wednesday, September 11, 2013

[Hata Bildir]