When The Dying Are Unveiled
(Four Poems of the Apocalypse )
Burning Up / Mark Mosley
The signs of it are everywhere;
“Do not enter without a mask.”
Fear is a forest burning wild.
Now, we are dying to wear one
to stop choking in this toxicity,
stacked like tokens in the lungs,
pathogenic material of the public square
pounded into the circle of the skull.
They say dark beasts in muscles
light fires at night in systems of malaise.
White bones standing like monuments
of you, you can no longer stand.
Hoods of delirium torch triumphant
any peaceful protests of the heart.
Afraid of the many lines crossed,
in cells this malady can’t sustain.
Bodies collapsed in beds breathing
synchronously to electricity.
At this stage, the sick no longer
have it in them to dislike the sick.
We stare in a fever of screens,
searching for the face to heal.
Read Part IV: Decensus
Burning Up: Copyright 2021 by Mark Mosley. All rights reserved.