Not even....
A Poem about the two deaths
Sleep came. Along with the dream. The same one as always. The one where years like water, swept the last person who ever knew me away. I stand, swaying under the weight of time. Forgotten. Existing only in my own mind. Heavy with hollowness. In this dream, I grasp clumsily for my own story. Like the guy I saw in the cash booth at the bowling alley, trying to catch green paper butterflies. As if, were I to clutch and miss my life; no more than a puff of dust. A cosmic sneeze. An afterthought in the mind of god. One heralds the arrival of the other; the death of self, then the death of flesh. A footprint washed away by tide and time. No one No thing No memory Not even…..
There’s something about the ‘years like water’ simile that sits so beautifully for me in the wider context of the piece. Great writing!
This is deep and intelligent writing. I’m looking forward to your next piece!