Three lumps of flesh on the couple’s private bench
a memorial park made for the forgotten.
Decay soon to commence in the brownish masses
with no one to notice the odious aroma.
Thankful is this traveler on a journey to the void
to know that little will remain of the oddity.
Perhaps a last vulture will feast and the would-be carcass
too thin even for the repast of night critters.
Somewhere in an estranged multitude
a two-room palace has fallen to crumbles.
Hovering upon the treetops above this lonely spectacle
a soul smiles, for no living creature will notice.
After all, they did not seem to share his tears
thus he knows it is better to never have been known.
The blink of a faint light has now faded
he leaves no pain behind for it is his alone for eternity.
a memorial park made for the forgotten.
Decay soon to commence in the brownish masses
with no one to notice the odious aroma.
Thankful is this traveler on a journey to the void
to know that little will remain of the oddity.
Perhaps a last vulture will feast and the would-be carcass
too thin even for the repast of night critters.
Somewhere in an estranged multitude
a two-room palace has fallen to crumbles.
Hovering upon the treetops above this lonely spectacle
a soul smiles, for no living creature will notice.
After all, they did not seem to share his tears
thus he knows it is better to never have been known.
The blink of a faint light has now faded
he leaves no pain behind for it is his alone for eternity.
Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.
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