Death of a Nihilist [poetry]

05. premortem

the selected men were buried in the cemetery.

in front of children

whose joints swelled bigger than their heads

from hypothermia;

and women

whose streaked faces floated aimlessly in the thick fog,

attached only by the thick black collars of their mourning dresses,

with tears in the hollow of their eyes,

sparkling red, like the dews

collected on the vines.

they were never the one to die,

yet were often the ones who cried.

other men stood at a distance, across the street,

in line for their turn.

the sound of wet cigarettes sizzles in the humid air,

crisp, like pressed cloves of white lilies and rose

petals, trampled under their dress shoes' soles.

the clouds thunder in the distance.

the chalky sky hanging over their heads

were the same shade as the wreaths of snapdragons

crowning the loaded coffins.

to the already buried ones,

there was no respect to be paid,

for the current living men presented there

were the next to be buried

for the day.

their silhouettes pressed against wrought iron fencing,

flat and black,

unmoving against the whispering seashore.

hoping for their final moments of life to be something

stranger than the muted colours,

washed-out hues of blood,

or the familiar, mild scent of

once-life, touched and coddled,

by decay and decomposition.

yet, they would walk to their predestined deaths,

finding nothing else new.

even after their coffin lids were sealed

and their lungs collapsed,

locked six feet underground,

they'd still unable to find stranger creatures

other than the women and children

they left behind.

⸻

premortem: existing or taking place immediately before death

prompt: strange behaviour