#293

june
#293
by Kieran Borsden
I died today –
in caulked sand laid flat,
my chest attuned to the tide;
an apparition (of June
and the dark mastery)
of time bled into happier
(skies stolen by an hour beyond the lips)
melodic weightless ego –
dialogue in static serenades
as air is fed (by steel
and glass printed) with my name;
(through a scent evolved,
driven by a lone blossom grown)
the last in a chain-link fence
for the first time.

0 thoughts on “#293

  1. This poem reminds me of Japanese death poems. It’s as if your senses broaden and your awareness of the noticeable comes flooding in. I read, ‘what is Zen but the serious contemplation of life and death?’. It’s a thing anyone seeking happiness should ponder upon.
    Thx for sharing!

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