Necropolis 10
(New Orleans 2005)
Death came like a dream,
a sweetness after terror,
in water that was fire against my skin,
that burned hot from the sun,
even as the air escaped my lungs.
I float like a leaf around the ones
walking in dark waters who
dare not look at me.
Have I become that foreign, I who loved so fiercely
and ran laughing into the dawn
wearing you like the sun?
I no longer feel heat or cold,
just this blankness of peeling skin
and a sinking mind.
I hear screams and cries
and the curses of men as if
from the other side of a curtain.
I know if you are still alive,
you weep for me.
You were not there when
I slid beneath the surface,
my legs caught in debris,
my strength not able to save me.
I died calling your name
but no one heard.
I hear the songs of the dead,
these dark whisperings in my mind
that slither from flood-risen coffins.
I am losing the memory of your skin
and how your body felt against me.
My vision is draining color and
I watch you fade like an afterimage
of longing projected in my soul.
When I am finally erased,
plucked from the floodwaters,
toe-tagged and buried
in an unmarked grave,
darling, will you love me still?
©Zen Oleary
September 2005
