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a bleak little furrow in Creation – a high wall and a shadow – an evolving Thing... – new fiction twice monthly, plus poetry, criticism, assorted ephemera

5 poems

david c. porter

Jul 26, 2022

Interior

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They both had newspapers
over their bodies.

Ministry

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His first thought was of harm
bought and carried
He tarried, there was a distance
something held him back
the elemental plane, the knight
wearing rubber gloves

He saw a storm coming over
greeted with caresses

Comatose

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a flat tree
a shadow holding
a gun
always looking towards you
the fires looking beautiful
flying across the water

Obelisk

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there will be a perfect image
one which is not a mirror
one which has no thoughts
one which is just silence, 
true silence
unrepeatable

Necropolis

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She lifted up the tarpaulin
and felt the dampness gathered underneath
as if, in there,
it had just rained.