Miasma Clouds, a poem by Stark Hunter at Spillwords.com
Pawel Czerwinski

Miasma Clouds

Miasma Clouds

written by: Stark Hunter

 

Miasma clouds hovering like frosted cotton fields.
The meat people sip white whales at a bleeding bar,
Talking, deciding what to do at the end of the world.
Dead auntie has radiation syrup in her musty cupboard,
And dead grandmother’s false teeth in a glittering jar.
Shall we mosey beyond these old wheezing terraces,
These skinless inner hallways of the still blue ménage,
And seek the gaping escape window to the garden isle?
There we will find the eternal ghost people making love,
Under pale moist sheets made of regrets and orgasms.
Now creeping up on Hoggett Lane and Gunster Road,
I see dead flowers strewing themselves to the watchers.
Alive again in the old houses downstream in the rushes;
They are astonished in their slow deathless maunderings.

Stark Hunter

Stark Hunter

A retired English teacher, Stark Hunter has been writing creatively since 1967, and has published 12 books. His latest title is 'Covid Gardens'.
Stark Hunter

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