Terminal

           The moon tonight

a small sliver of the sky, mournfully

mounting an end of the day’s

funeral song

            Whispered through wires

connecting radio speakers to God’s ears

humming below audible bounds

subterranean distraction drones

            Uncovering

recovering daylight hours shine,

their shadows lurching out of morning’s

disjointed colors through surreal filters

            Cold settling

congealed solid particles bonded grief

stabilized in solution, isolated impurities pull

through resolve’s uneasy impact

            Throes ingested

they magnify all hope swayed into favor,

bleak yet brimming in consciousness

terminal drift cum obligation

            Tidal decay

movement en masse measured in sediments’

malignant and parched encroachment

carved through archaic frozen fortresses

Matt Mauldin
10/2017
Santa Barbara, CA