Illustration by Mormei Zanke
Angle of repose
Poem by Michael Pendreigh
Foreshocks ignored:
reliving her soft temples against my thumbs
kiss her forehead. Now
she is a foot away
a canyon between us, paralyzed
on the fringe
in a frozen state
seized by the seventh Hades.
A gust of wind beckons
her body to mine:
let forms dissipate
and fall into the night
into morning
into fossils
inanimate
faulting
the metrics of intimate denudation.
Our Grecian urn
tumbles from its perch
on the edge of the strata
we thought
immune to erosion.