necropolis
necropolis
 poetry stories
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misao
misao i write poetry + short stories
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
this is a poem about a snowdrop, written for the snowdrop poetry festival.

necropolis

necropolis by misao.

awake in the necropolis

awake in the necropolis entombed by remains

all that’s left of what’s left is

all that’s left of what’s left is the arm of a child, just above zero

all that’s left of what’s left is the arm of a child, just above zero pinning a doll by the neck down

all that’s left of what’s left is the arm of a child, just above zero pinning a doll by the neck down to the crypt beneath the hall of the school.

it strains its rotting ear to hear the voices above -

it strains its rotting ear to hear the voices above - but the gales have stripped them away.

the evergreen fir was felled back when

the evergreen fir was felled back when the music box still jingled in tune.

the evergreen fir was felled back when the music box still jingled in tune. now its cacophonous squawk was soundtrack to

the hooting owls;

the hooting owls; the creep of the crawlers;

the hooting owls; the creep of the crawlers; the groan of its bulb

sunk in the void of the necropolis.

Alone: there in the necropolis

Alone: there in the necropolis rooted set in inefficacy

Alone: there in the necropolis rooted set in inefficacy its creaking joints ooze Paris green and sputter on the snowy tundra.

Alone: there in the necropolis rooted set in inefficacy its creaking joints ooze Paris green and sputter on the snowy tundra. killing Death.

Then, redeemed by the floods of the springtime months

Then, redeemed by the floods of the springtime months If lifts, rockets, grasps the Sun. Wake up, World, for I have come

Then, redeemed by the floods of the springtime months If lifts, rockets, grasps the Sun. Wake up, World, for I have come to wash it all away.

And the necropolis kindled

And the necropolis kindled for but another season:

And the necropolis kindled for but another season: the snowdrop’s ephemeral fix.

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