Under the earth
they look upwards
the poet
and he who tried to pick the word
and she who tried to dissect it
She who appreciated with tears
her bed sores still carved in her back
even under the earth
He who enjoyed iced-coffee
as he savored every character
and flipped the torched memories
of places touched
into flurries of ruminations
that rested on lowered metal rimmed
glasses
She who would fume with passion
her red-rimmed eyes
pale forehead and rosy cheeks
scratching the meaning of every word
into being
She who appreciated gardens of love
where words were flamboyant
and smiles full of letters
Now all under the earth
together weep
not at the life missed
But the earth that is no more sweet
it tenses up on their dead senses
The blood and salty sweat it is fed
has turned the soil into endless death
After the last death…
There should be no more deaths…
But not with war…where the dead awake to relive death…
