Martin Gooding

Obituary - Poem by Martin Gooding

They drowned in a lake of inconsequential figureheads
Mythical numbers
Creatures of fantasy
Strangled by something that doesn’t exist
I miss them

A wealth once known by an incomprehensible notation
Cellular binary
Rooted in tissues
Suffocates until blue in the pocket
I’d miss them

I would miss them but they are now insignificant marks
Inky streaks
Watered down
Oxygen falls from lungs to fingertips
Rest well

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 2, 2013

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