Cinerarium (Hope in Dust)

one-pulse

here I stand upwind
with a dead bird in my hands
in barren Eden
and look at the sore plucked backs
of my deserting brothers

I yell after them
“omens are a pile of crap!
who can blame people
if hosts of heaven act like
credulous aborigines?”

wind snatches my words
and mixes them up with sand
nobody believes
that cold grey ash in my hands
is an arising phoenix

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2016

55 thoughts on “Cinerarium (Hope in Dust)

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