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Ancient shipwreck
Catacombs with skeletal
Remains, skin long gone
No living survivors anymore
All too old for storytelling
Or wise tale spinning
She wanted beyond this now
So she could make it mean
Anything she wanted it to mean
Death
Birth
Pergatory, perpetual
In a world of torn barnacles
and pierced floors
bare feet and ripped open hearts
wouldn’t walk there
they would be salvaged for
their jewelry rather than
gently questioned about
their intent
There are times the only
Answer is no explanation
The only meaning or reason
Is emptiness
The only hope is tumbling
With petticoats askew and
Hair asunder over into
Hopelessness that we
Finally find our home
In the rusted out hulk
No one else recognizes
Except for her
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© 2011
Julie Jordan Scott
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