Wednesday, October 24, 2012

In the Fog

let me tell you
how it feels to be dead.
empty
cold
during the day I’m invisible
during the dark times, invincible
I can brush your cheek
with the breeze
if I like
I can trip you up with roots
roots you scurry to avoid
a clock strikes twelve
cold empties
how it feels to be dead
let me tell you.

3 comments:

  1. ...do the dead really feel that they are dead, or is it just our own feeling - but, yes, your poem has the quality of a horror vid... which made me shiver...

    best wishes
    gabriele

    ReplyDelete
  2. Gabrielle, thank you so much for your comment. I am always happy to hear from you.
    ~Kay

    ReplyDelete