The Rest is Silence
A vacuum-like presence fills my veins,
My arteries, my heart, yes, mostly in
My chest. These vessels for my blood have stains
Still where pulse used to course. Each ulta-thin
Tattoo that love has mottled on their walls
Is ugliness made up of beauty dried
To lesions. It is lack of love which mauls.
My bones lack marrow now. I’m like a bride
Who is an absence there inside her gown,
A nothingness of human shape, a thing
Of force fields that is stronger than the frown
A ghost wants but too weak to wear a ring.
There’s so much missing even echoes fail.
….I am a hollow, lost unholy grail.