Sinkhole

Dreading dawn’s vertigo ache of first-wake light,
sound bite quietude a hushed interlude
as carnassials gnaw at gut.
 

Nausea burns constricted throat,
fingernails scrape at chalk dust entrails
of a dismantled reality.
 

Cotton-sheathed, saline-soaked wretch,
wracked and ruined, slinks back down
into caliginous midden.
 

Though light climbs agile through the blinds,
the damned diurnal will not dredge up
the dregs of fragmented flesh today.
 

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2 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, Poetry, Tercets

2 responses to “Sinkhole

  1. Julie, an intense poem with vivid imagery, crafted with an eye for every detail. Dismantled reality is very descriptive. Wonderful poetry.

    Beth

  2. Thanks Beth. High time I wrote something a little less dark I think…I just don’t do fluffy though…lol

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