Necromancy Sonnet

Start with the dead things, she says. The stink bugs
that hid under the floor boards and shriveled;
the spiders that starved blanketed in rugs
of their own soft webs. There is a brittle
delicacy in exoskeletons
prepared to shatter with a puff, the grace
of dry bones, the so tender elegance
of perfectly still lines in a limp face.
Perhaps it’s a little shrew tucked in
under the snow. Perhaps it’s a dark star
in a black sky lit only by the light
it released with its final gasp. We swim
in the dust of dead things, beautiful char,
abandoned pain, and emptiness of sight.


7 responses to “Necromancy Sonnet

  1. True – but living in a sea of dead things seems a little unsettling. But it is a humorous thought (exp the starving spiders who overlooked the dying sunk bugs)

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  3. This is stunning.

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