There was nothing but darkness
yet I could see everything clearly—
depth-less horizon inversely distant
yet oppressively close.
Just at sunset, the bells begin their summons
on the farthest hill, her minions rise from unmarked graves…
Is this how we say goodbye?
My hands over my ears, yours around the trigger and grip--
I will go to where the day races past in an hour
and the milky way dips to kiss the ice.
Where once I had a heart of glass
a stone now holds its place.
"But, Mommy," he pleaded,"looking at it in the mirror
makes me squeamish." "I know." she replied
as she amused herself knowing she must
keep the secret just a little while longer.
The hood drops, the whispers are silenced.
No angels sing here.
And what is an angel? Angels aren't real.
But they are everywhere. Are they not?
At the crossroads of justified sin
I question morality.
—Christina Sng, R.A. Smith, Marge Simon, Elsa M. Carruthers, Angela Yuriko Smith, Chelsea Hunter, Laura Kester Duerrwaechter, Ocaso de Queso, Stephen Antczak and Kyra Starr
What is an Exquisite Corpse?
An exquisite corpse poem is created by different people giving a line unrelated to the previous line. A poem is built from many authors, following the same rule or theme. In this case, there are no rules but it is a line, so no paragraphs please. You can read more about them here.
July's topic is: Revolution