Apocalyptic poems, posted every m-f.

scrimshaw

place your fingertips on my eyelids
while i sleep

bring me back into the world, whisper
at first
bring me back slowly

tell me about the whale, washed ashore
i will follow you, even in the black, pitch black night
we can carve meat from its bones,
roast over torched driftwood.

eat it with me as the dawn encroaches,
we can spoon whale fat into the hide pouches you bring –
make soap from it before the day’s end

let me have a quiet moment before we leave,
i will carve love poems into the ribcage of this tragedy
your name, over and over again

leave with me
groggy and content – bellies full
hearts lit

i sleep best when you won’t let me

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