Death
Death
For Eddie
By Dillon Mullenix
one day
they just start
dying
everyone
you knew
their ghosts
they sing me to sleep
i can see all their faces
baked into the loaves
of my bread
with each flaky bite
a cryptic message is
deciphered
but the holes
in our hearts
fill with airless
esotericisms
as they pass on
into tomorrow
Intriguing way of describing change, such as coming of age, in the onlooker. The people “you knew” die off yet remain, close, though at a remove. I really like the image of seeing their faces “baked into the loaves of my bread.”