Creatrix

Poets's Sleep by
Chang Hong Ahn, 1989Unborn characters die and decompose,
empty skulls bleaching in the sun.
Hollow sockets, gaping jaws;
I sleep on,
dreaming, dreaming.

Their spirits try to wake me by throwing pebbles,
shattering the windows and lining the sill.
Like stones on grave markers;
they whisper,
don't forget, don't forget.

When I die they shall crowd around me,
holding me accountable for their premature expulsion.
Howling voices, accusing eyes;
didn't you know,
We could have lived, we could have lived.

Mag 208

Copyright © 2014 SK Waller