The continents once scattered…by G. Mramor


The continents once scattered in a beautiful array now have cause to collide:

Grey shifts across the ocean with furyous speed. Some obstinate white clouds are outlined in champagne from a holy light silent upon death. But the grey continents but the dark continents now avail to forget the once world. A slouching river cloud steers down a swath on the right and its oceanic brother wipes down on the left. There is a moment of pause:

Where little girls in their boy daze follow the swing of their bare flesh in the pulsing heat. Where old women creep prayers to chiselled hollow men underneath boardroom doors for bread. Where a man hardened by long-lived doubt becomes supple in the touch of a young man in the garden dark as the breath in their kiss. Where a man and woman hold hands wet with some kin of fear in every moment after their every silence caught in a stare in a hospital bed baby you’re so beautiful and a feigned smile are you gonna be a man awaiting a berry red child. Where two hide under the cover of longshadow and kiss strangers in the night exchanging passion for pay. Where all those dwellers of the momentary bliss and of the oblivion ushered through the hart vein shuffle through the refuse kind to them. Where a son and mother live inable to speak to another fore the past that binds them to something unspeakable. Where fathers and daughters laze in the reaching hands of a burnt-out lawn how┬áI love you how I love you oh how I love you that way. Where the lonely are given hart by the heavy dreaming of destruction inside. Where men and women boys and girls old and old smile a mad smile fore the fight is over. Where the trees swing in a last dance. Where all animalia begin to terror.

And there are only two who dare look up, two lovers of the damned, and it happens without a sound.

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