You’d like to Take My Photo?

I am the last monster

Rising upon a cold day

Hot coffee on the stove

A fallen egg white souffle

Dust draining from words that signify my presence

Polished glass eyes and stiff hands

Whispering autumn and breath of everything begun

My fingers the worms and a belt of putrid flesh without faces, without sounds

Bones collected in cans, a victory of sorts

I have eaten the powdered feet of your children and destroyed eternal homes

Burned blue your love out of tired history

Yet, I can go no further and will fall into the stream of things unseen

Born of nothing, blood upon blood

My rubble, my hole

Please take the photo now, unafraid, before I change my mind…something for posterity

The dark edges may one day caress my form and lift me upon a table to view, to cut, to copy the map where people played in their innocent ways with toys of change

(A photo is taken and time freezes.  There is a wondering.  Can time feel the cold?  Does the image float upon magnetic waves that buffet the white-sail of old fools?  Will strands of hair sound like sadness in the wood?  Is there a sickness of endless night?)

I am not adverse to God pondering all of this and even much more

If nothing else, I am a curious monster

But away…first my breakfast and then I have work to do

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One thought on “You’d like to Take My Photo?

  1. So many great images – it’s like dining on a Salvador Dali painting. “Burned blue your love out of tired history” and “sickness of endless night” feel like an elegy definitely worthy of a monster’s selfie.

    Like

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