It might be Tuesday in the midst of June
a calendar droops from a rusty tack
confused in its crumbling sepia tones
they can’t quite recall wo placed it there
or when, yet they have a vague impression
of a silhouette similar to theirs, decades before.
Someone set fire to a desk in the living room
to make a feast reminiscent of their teens
when they escaped to the dark forest
and sat around the makeshift hearth as magicians
when their dreams were still puerile
they could laugh without retribution.
It may have been twenty years ago or perhaps one
they have not ventured to the streets in ages
subdued by an existence without imagination
they slouch in boneless bodies
glassy eyes into landscapes no one else can perceive
they might well become part of the wooden floor.
They are five, perhaps twenty without a will
to stand or change the channels on the antique screen
they did laundry once and left it to rot
it was weeks ago, should they ask the neighbors?
but swimming through inches of dirt
wallowing in remnants of forgotten orgies they lay.
Someday their abode will implode
for a mistake under the expected influence
all who have survived will finally find a brutal end
in the flames of oddly concocted hallucinations
for a life without debt in a pricey world
too weak to face the humility of decent days.
Beloved child she stumbled on a limelight stage
wearing heels made for a mother
cheered on by strange adults with fancy cameras
she pursed lips in what she thought a smile.
Frail legs swayed with newly found pain
hoses, mascara, and other devices
prescribed by an ambitious manager
she is six, might as well be twenty.
She traveled many ages and numerous cities
on luxury transport and first line air
sniffing caviar, Havanas, and cocaine
forms preserved by chemicals and a little touch up.
She recalls those days when it felt so good
to show angular curves bathed in two pieces
of thousand-dollar fabrics per inch
before the party to celebrate her twenties.
A monument now she feels nothing
under the artificial layers tailored for a future
walking to cheer on her replacements
so artificial the mirror reflects a stranger.
It has been many visits to the sterile rooms
under bright lights again and silent walls
as she tried to recover a youth not her own
and succeeded so in looking like another’s ghost.
She looked at the giant a million miles above
attempting to escape on all six in the dirt
it had not been a moment as she thought
since she had devoured a particle of dust.
The monstrosity continued on its merry way
moving mountains at the bottom of a sole
infinite in its blind power to achieve oblivion
upon a world suspect only to its gentle kin.
A tremor soon shakes their home like a quake
so strong to swallow all things, redemption
the killer has collapsed under an unseen thumb
pressing on a life so feeble in its illusion of invincibility.
Within the carcass a little thing crawls
warm in the home of these shrinking entrails
it seeks a place to raise its immense family
food aplenty in the bounty of this fleshy planet.
Tomorrow will see another light
a dimming sun will become supernova
victim to its own appetite for eternal strength
it may even beg for a respite.
Sitting atop the cozy enclave of a palace
he contemplates the cadaver of a brother
stabbed in the heart by such a little thing
another sun’s life shuddered by a tiny moon.