Gnats and an ant have gnawed your nimble bones–
You who could spring and sprawl on your own thread
Down half the meadow. Under tiny stones
The ant has stored your essence. You are dead.
You stitched the air with level darts: the sun
Slid on your silvers. Now they slant oblique
Like strokes of rain….
Your neighbors have begun
To chew the cud of festoons. From the cheek
Of this, your hairy enemy, dangles one
Loop of his glee to tease your skeleton.
Wasps sting the grapes still, carry spider-spoil
In twisted torment past your web and on
Where their crude honey hangs in muddy cones.
The ants are hurried. One huge bee intones.
The pond is wrinkled with a velvet oil
Where gnats will hatch, with dusk, another spawn.
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Comments
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Very pretty poem. Obviously dark but thats my favorite kind.
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this is with out a doubt the best poem i have read about death so far! It's deep and revealing. I LOVE IT!
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i like the idea of chewing the cud of the festoons. but. i thinl the line that is most overlooked is the beautiful
'the pond is wrinkled with a velvet oil. now. that's a line. -
This is pretty good. I liked the poem to an extent, but it is deffinately not my favorite. Oh well, thats quite all right. Still is a good poem, right?
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Wow , you did a beautiful job i was able to be vividly imaginitive while i read. great job
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Okay, I love the imagery, but spiders freak me out!! ((-spider-soil......*shudders*-)) But I like this poem a lot, and I liked picturing everything. The way that you worded it all was beautiful
----Shady
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very good. I like this poem a lot.
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