Worms Who Abide in their Own Darkness by Sy Roth

The soil speaks in riddles,
a labial romantic dissertation of sorts conjoined with a frigid sun.

It begs forgiveness for its unyielding grey—-
scowling lips sings a minor dirge to the moribund

who glide fixedly past the barren, arms-outstretched remnants
candelabra that once contained promises of fulsome creatures

spouting a glut of promises in their once-amber blossoms–
uttering hopeful promises, of gifts in shades of red and ochre

now a cerise, setting sun of sadness rests languid in a blackened sky
and frigid winds below strangle contemplations in apathetic dreams.

Hopeless, unforgiving blends of livid winds
rip the soil into flaccid, stoic taciturnity.

It soughs a hyperbolic refrain to a dull gray day
and months-long essays of doom plow the Sherman fields into ebon remembrances

ruined landscapes and unending Kaddishes sung to a dying sun
while the mouth of the earth gapes aghast

and peoplekind wrap their dreams in a shroud
letting the worms do their business in their own darkness.

©2018 Sy Roth


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Sy Roth is a retired school administrator and has finally found the sounds of silence and the time to think whole thoughts. This has led him to find words and the ability to shape them. He has published in Visceral Uterus, Amulet, BlogNostics, Every Day Poets, Barefoot Review, Haggard and Halloo, Misfits Miscellany, Mad Swirl, Larks Fiction Magazine, Danse Macabre, Bitchin’ Kitch, Bong is Bard, Humber Pie, Poetry Super Highway, Penwood Review, Masque Publications, Foliate Oak, Miller’s Pond Poetry and The Eloquent Atheist.

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