To The Innermost Edge

the last facet of contentment. Pic.: of Göteborg’s harbour, my own


Living below the edge,
I enjoy free movement in compliant air,
pushing upwards to swallow bubbles.

Dying below the edge,
I am an object filling space on resistant base,
pushing downwards involuntarily.

Soon, I’ll push outwards in countless edges;
hungry maggots will tear me cell from cell
and convey me far afield on cellulose wings.

Only my bones will remain,
hard edges, still and clean;
eye sockets twinkling with water,

long gumless teeth in fallen jaw,
laughing, as only skulls can do,
revealing even now,
to the innermost edge,
this man
enjoyed being human.

We, the active, can only plod on, submit work, comment when you realise feedback is a two-way courtesy, hope a few registered members return, hope some of today’s English-speaking people join after becoming aware of the social and mental benefits of small community writing, and that, fundementally, this long-standing site survives!
With more contributing, the less the focus will be on the few, keeping the site work-centered, not person-centered!


© Gothicman 2023
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