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May 2015
She nods and sighs
amongst the conifers.

Evergreen sap coats the
rug of needles beneath, and
the wind covers her skin
with rippling gooseflesh.

A little black balloon lies
beside a bindle of rigs.

The moon robs and blinds
her of sight, shining so
very brightly into her dilated
pupils and hidden irises.

A single rusted spoon glows and
A stolen church candle smoulders.

Her golden locks encircle
the crown of her cranium
in a halo worthy of stained-
glass windows.

Rubber tubing is tied off
above her collapsing veins.

The fallen leaves under her
protruding shoulder blades
stretch out for miles in a
pair of clipped wings.

With a final rattling cough
the light leaves her eyes,

and dissipates into
the punctured skies
as she quietly fades,
and dies.
Justin S Wampler
Written by
Justin S Wampler  30/M
(30/M)   
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