my cells scream silently of dying.
heard only are their dying whimpers.
and the micro-corpses stack-up at my ankle,
being nothing but visages of my world.

i serve as their woesome eulogist
unable to un-ring the chimes of demise.
and accordingly bid them each
an au voir, job well done!

each cell's tombstone marked by a wrinkle
as the lop-sided egg of humanity
continually up-rights itself and
bobs like a leaf on the river's current.

03/07/2005

Posted on 03/07/2005
Copyright © 2025 Charlie Morgan