by J.J.Morgan

Created on: April 08, 2009

In Paradisium

One clear, dark tomb of night
wet with the lingering
taste of dreams,
I found darkness had
splintered into the shape
of a face, waxen

a child.

Ceaseless, silent, his eyes are rivers
cutting through dirty land, dying earth,
fat legs plundering a litter-strewn bank,
his laughter immersed in fire,
brown meadow grass
forever haunting,

abandoned.

This is the heart's landscape, fetid
hopes left to compost while love sings
a lullaby to the infant left shriveling

in an empty womb.

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