Decomp

something of the dust would smell
cadaverous,
organic on the day we told ourselves
all debts had been settled.

because our something not alive
could never be so damned
by imperfection.

this is how the rot begins to set.
gangrenous light
retreats
again
where medication mocks the eyes
you haven't peeled away from what you owed.

JM Gant

A New Jersey born poet, author, and editor. Arch Linux enthusiast, and self-confessed data-hoarder.

  • USA - New Jersey