Rage and numbness

Under the
Damp, solid earth
The broad shouldered tombstone
Pressed on my chest, right
Above my fragile lungs. 
The soft white flowers, small, 
And unable to compete in
Weight with the vast, boundless
Land, shivered
Under their own shadows. 
Cardboard boxes, soft, too, and damp
As well—my garden statuettes. 
Spoilt, wrathful soul, 
My back arched
And stiffened, 
I allowed the flame
To subside
Little by little—
From red to black. 
My long fingernails
Sunk deeply into my
Coffined mind, and
My trembling pulse spoke
Of how sick
I was
As the rhythmic 
Beats of life
Deceased into ash. 
Enraged, 
Stared into the reflection—
Where would you be
In a few decades?

Dale Chou
2000-07-09