What Do The Dead Know But Death by Jasmine Sword-Mannwhat do the dead know
but death:
wet spindly bones
stripped of
flesh
interred in the earth.
we are from the old world -
my empty hands
ivory
upon red geraniums.
their crimson petals stretch
to the sun like a bridge.
and i
i reach for you:
spindly white
fingers
like overripe buds
splaying open.
spare me your tongue - i
should have buried it
beneath the peach blossoms in
May
when the dirt was fresh
and you were not so jaded of me.
and what do
we
know of love
but death?
to
dust to dust
we share.
i
would forget you. 05/04/2012 Author's Note: I'm not good at this.
Posted on 05/04/2012 Copyright © 2025 Jasmine Sword-Mann
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by George Hoerner on 05/04/12 at 01:13 PM Sounds rather well done to me lady. |
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 05/04/12 at 04:37 PM I'd say you're fantastic, and this proves it, but that's just one person's opinion. |
Posted by Jersey D Gibson on 05/04/12 at 06:31 PM What do the poets know but poetry? An excellent example of it, as well. |
Posted by Jim Benz on 05/07/12 at 04:47 PM I disagree--you're very good at this. |
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