In the Eons of All Those Forgotten Yesterdays

A narrative poem about an apocalypse

Photo by Tobias Keller on Unsplash

Fingertips levitate
millimeter voids above,
my lips, trembling epitaphs,
along your legs. Lonely
whimpering as the cracking
of time slithered across the
white-powdered mirror
standing in a field,
reaching between eons
of all those forgotten yesterday.
Do you remember the color green?
Now, as they look upon
our frozen mouths…