the silent death
The rhythm of a distant drumbeat.
Flickering lights reflect the shore of a bay.
Catching the corner of some floating debris.
A full moon hides behind the swirling fog.
As its falling fingers draw more carefully
a now shapeless silhouette.
Once suffocated by mirrors and dreams.
The curse, stiff upon its hinge.
Moist, ripe, heavy as the night.
Has cut to pieces,
but now well out of sight.
No warmth, no touch.
No light can creep in
from its secret hiding place.
No sudden flashes burning now.
The blood sucked away.
Drained from a well worn dead face.
by the tireless waves.
Small pieces, in little pieces.
the silver cages cut.
The body became
The silent death.
(First drafted in 1984. This edit, version 3, redrafting this morning, two paragraphs from the original removed and those that remain reworked completely, is a snapshot of sadness permeating my psyche today.)