Poem – “How to Count the Marks on your Corpse” – Bereavement – 9/9/2020

Stilled,
Without a sign to the breath
That would raise you
To feel the morning’s shower
Against your cheeks,
To receive the gleam
That can display life
For your acrylic eyes.

I could paint you
In the way you are,
Blossomed from a rose in a grave,
Written out as a song of sleep,
As to you, I could not save,
Though death whispered its lullaby.

Marks
Creasing you
In your state of decay.
Love does not shelter
The starved of me,
The empty of you.

You are the dreams
Without their stars.
There is only the guidance
Without my steps.
There is only the lighthouse
Within the storm.

I am unable to crawl
To see where the stars pin themselves
Against the deepest of blue,
In this evening, anew.
I am unable to see,
While I am unable to read
The marks of this death
Upon your corpse, that never fades another breath,
Like the sky that hangs down
The weathered, jeweled crown.