The Yawning Grave
written by: David Estringel
@The_Booky_Man
What waits (for you)
beyond cold reliefs of
endless sleep
and the gossip of earthworms?
I scry the shadows (for answers)
stretching ‘cross your new marriage bed—
a stone for a pillow and
blanket of red posey—
but they scurry and scatter
like children
with the rolling of clouds across the sun.
How I long for the cradle
of loving arms
and the smell of kitchen on
your clothes.
Though I hear the beckoning
of the yawning grave,
wailing and ached,
like a baby bird awaiting its first
taste of flesh,
I will not take its hand
nor tarnish my finger with its
dubious promise.
Summer is no time for the cold.
David Estringel is a Xicanx writer, Professor of English, and EIC at The Argyle Literary Magazine and Blood+Honey with words at The Opiate, Cowboy Jamboree, Dreich, Mythic Picnic, Literary Heist, Street Cake, The Milk House, BULL, The Hooghly Review, Drunk Monkeys, The Daily Drunk, and The Honest Ulsterman. David has published seven poetry/hybrid collections, six poetry chapbooks, and one co-authored novel Escaping Emily through Thirty West Publishing House.
Latest posts by David Estringel (see all)
- Dirty Back Road - July 6, 2026
- Anatomy of a Poet, or This Old House - April 3, 2026
- Boy with a Box Full of Wasps - January 2, 2025
