The lights have gone out.
Noise of drills and engines ceased.
Babylonian cacophony of Man's short-sighted dreams
drowned by the damp night and its milky stars;
a wet blanket wrapped around our vain enthusiasms.
I walk upon the floors unpolished,
construction dust swirling at my feet.
A chill breeze whistles through
holes of your bared face, rustling plastic curtains,
shoving dust and grime and cement up my nostrils.
Your bones lay broken, bent and rusted before me.
Moonlight shines through your hollow eyes
and the scattered remnants of your beaten body
--steel and iron and rock flecked with rust and red paint--
shiver in your destitute reality:
rotting flesh with traces of dried blood,
a carcass for the vultures.
The lights have gone out.
In the silence I hear the ghost of your soul,
whispering through the cracks of your concrete skin,
spitting chips of granite in my ear.
I wince at its sharpness,
and leave deaf and blind,
still indifferent to your woes.
Author notes
Inspired by "Silence" by Edgar Allan Poe.
-abernaith
A contest entry
- --and the rock was gray by SurelyWritten.
430 points, ended November 29, 2006, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Not Bad, Girl!
It seems that the "Poe Bug" isbiting a bit more these days. What a coincidence that I wrote about a house as well. But in this case it was Poe's own. You seem to be catching the style quite well. Please continue.
EH.
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Thank you
Thanks, EH. You surprised me there, showing up all of a sudden. I am not well-versed in Poe's work, but I'm very glad you think I have caught the spirit of it.
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