monostich – Page 45 – elancharan gunasekaran

the night sky is the belly button of a sleeping god lying on its stomach strangely hollow and yet filled with bizarre wonders

a beam of bone white mercy cuts through the dark to reveal the fangs of a treacherous coast

petals rotate like clockwork life runs on color and rust

she draws silence from the well of the void her tiny frame working the worn ropes an eternity of labor she never tires a wry smile breaks across her face as the bucket empty but heavy emerges

cinder and ash morning smells like damnation of burnt ruins

rumours of rain this dreamless night the body endures this bed of fire

vanished suns of autumn true morning never quite returns

i’d like to fix my worn knuckles with comet bone and witness a small apocalypse by the hour

there is ash within the lungs of expired gods the words unsaid the curses undone and raw magical energies caught in its own loop ballooning until the day it explodes and unmakes the cosmos

trees gossip of mortals and wily beings predestined to eat a fruit from the gardens of paradise and witness the doom of worlds within their frail minds