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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “In the Singularity” Down in the Dirt, v175 (the September 2020 Issue) Order the paperback book:

Order this writing that appears in the one-of-a-kind anthology Late Frost the Down in the Dirt Sept.-Dec. 2020 issues collection book		get the 420 page Sept.-Dec. 2020 Down in the Dirt 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

sickness unto death

Tom Carter

in a dream
i entered a room
and you were there

as the people parted
as fog flew away
you stood there resplendent

without angst or care
save for me
and all the familiar people

all stood at your beside
casting unknowing
looks from eye to eye

the future rose up
hope in a distant wave
gathering, mounting

wave after wave
as we moved closer
closer still

i at askance
glancing at your glance
it seemed

roots of the sea
sprouted my arms
branching

branch after branch
to bring you near
a decency

an object dear
a long-spent treasure
as they say


without peer
without measure
i brought you nearer

nearer to m.....
when you your alabaster fingers
shot up in my face

so emphatic
that tobacco-palm dream
brought me back

the old deadbolt
shot right up in bed
saw then i suddenly

the all too-long
un-hail maryed years
through crystal chilled

cold and clear
the bone-white pucker
fist of your face

your meaning out
should I say finally
a voice fire-crackled popped

your pointed scorn my way
bitter as bark
dry as drought

rough as rock
you even shot
out, “Stop, don’t even try!”

at that prophetic moment
i bled to death
before I died

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