In the Eons of All Those Forgotten Yesterdays
A narrative poem about an apocalypse
Fingertips levitate
millimeter voids above,
my lips, trembling epitaphs,
along your legs. Lonely
whimpering as the cracking
of time slithered across the
white-powdered mirror
standing in a field,
reaching between eons
of all those forgotten yesterday.
Do you remember the color green?
Now, as they look upon
our frozen mouths
Whispering, I love you.
The coming of the ice
stopped our rivers
our tears, our voices but a whimper
in the heightened palace
of glistening diamond fields.
You told me,
Not to worry about
The monsters in the closet.
Said I was a man,
Even before,
The first hair
Sprouted from my chest
But it was before my mind,
I could read between the screams
Before my heart could feel,
Between the belt and scraped knees
that I peered upon
The coming of winter’s unforgiving faults
Before I saw a frozen moon, converse
in…
