Aftermath
rust. Being one phase of corruption, a matter of
resolve. When I surrender, the implication is of giving
over, moving above, allowance. Delivering despite
the steady flaking away at what colors me intact.
The quiet evening had lulled me to this inevitability:
when oxides subsume the original metal, the expansion
may result in catastrophe. Yesterday’s arc, tomorrow’s
trial. Failure’s bloom.
* * *
“Aftermath” first appeared in the print publication Sheepshead Review. Thank you to Audrey Schultz and staff for taking this poem.
Reblogged this on On My Feet.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for reblogging.
LikeLike
Beautiful poem!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLike
and yet, the birth of new life…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Another cycle.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Aftermath? More like sounds like things are just getting started =(
LikeLiked by 1 person
After, before…
LikeLiked by 1 person