Last Will


I write my eulogy
on underground walls
because I am running out
out of skin.

The Sun is tired
of looking at us
and water slips through
the           gaps
in our attention span.

Not that it matters anymore.
The human body is 60% oil.

So I carve my name
with my hands,
silicone and steel,
on lead-covered pipes

In the hopes that once
the Earth has stilled
and the fires extinguished

there will be someone left

to decipher

my electric emotions.

 

© christine DINGLEY 2011

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