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Misty Sierra
Poems
Apr 2019
White noise and his death
there was static
in the air
as he slowly
emptied himself
into her arms
with a tight fist
of the overused
four letter word ~
the moon shines
like a curse
as his last breaths
lingered in the
white noise
of 3 am silence
she forgot to inhale ~
a lump of frost
tightened inside
her throat
and she dropped like
shrinking mercury
on the floor
spreading apart
in the death
of stillness
separating
into pieces of
a gentle gray ache
into the
wishless sky ~
no one would dare
come to the edge
of mourning
where she grieved
not even
tears ~
she became the earth,
the grounding
parallel to the
deep yonder
with cold blue vowels
like the credits
of a silent film ~
rivers of words
rippled over her skin
as a red-lined metaphor
came up for air ~
treading amongst the
stillborn echoes
her fingers painted
zigzag patterns
of black and white
in the thick fog
of colourless
winters
and her lips
weaved stanzas
in past tense
at high tide ~
#death
Written by
Misty Sierra
F/India
(F/India)
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