Author Information
Wall of I
There were old walls left standing
in wake of mass collapse.
They held fixtures and railways,
old and aging megaphones,
robbed of speech, impotent,
but symbols that echoed prior voice.
Of few survivors, one aspect crossed
borders to true neutrality
and became lost there for days.
He returned changed and so haggard,
like a cripple lost among desert dunes.
When he would kneel and vomit,
he could expel only muddy water.
And everyone was robbed of words
that were not bathed in metaphor.
All windows fogged, all mirrors obscured;
all means of conveyance and climb
fell into stupid, frantic disuse.
After the air became thicker and dense,
we'd only see ambiguous blurs
to accompany any sort of presence;
any sort of approaching touch.
We'd swipe at them like feral beasts,
lest they rob us, lest they bore us;
lest they attempt to ignore us.
