death, poetry

Decay in Motion

I watch her decay
in motion—free falling
                                          away from me—
trauma trapped in the body,
eating its way through the heart.
She falters forward and freezes
in place: the look of life
has gone from her face.
For a moment, she dies—
for a moment she is dead.
For a moment I’m stricken
by all that’s left unsaid.

©2022, H. M. Smith, all rights reserved.

Photo by Photo by Alain Frechette from Pexels.

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