Thank you very much to Editor Randal A. Burd of Sparks of Calliope for publishing my poem.
https://sparksofcalliope.wordpress.com/2019/10/26/520/
“The Storyteller Within the Blue Latitudes”
My mind is sharp, and oddly enough,
I can see in all directions at the same time.
People’s mouths move, but there is no sound.
I rather enjoy not having to breathe.
The air seems, well, cleaner somehow.
I can see in all directions at the same time.
People’s mouths move, but there is no sound.
I rather enjoy not having to breathe.
The air seems, well, cleaner somehow.
After all the illness and pain,
I’ve taken a turn for the better,
and I’m doing quite well.
I’ve taken a turn for the better,
and I’m doing quite well.
My unblinking eyes are easy on the lenses.
The memory of what is overhead is fading rapidly.
I stroll through my thoughts;
my body chooses to remain still inside this vault.
The memory of what is overhead is fading rapidly.
I stroll through my thoughts;
my body chooses to remain still inside this vault.
Being dead is a solitary exercise,
and I do so relish my solitude.
and I do so relish my solitude.
The firmament becomes obscured,
and I repose in state happily ever after.
and I repose in state happily ever after.
