Simon MacCulloch

Death Certificate

I will come to you when the ghosts are melting
In the long blue dawn of the last new day,
As the slow pale fade of the great forgetting
Draws the last bright thorns of your thoughts away,
And the sharp stars grey.

We will walk awhile on the sand where footprints
Mark a mirrored dance as they flood with sky
To the whispered song of remembrance foaming
On the shell-grave beach where the shed dreams die,
And you’ll ask me why.

So I’ll show you dust and I’ll show you planets
Where they made fresh suns out of iron and air,
And in cold black space we will ride the currents
To the white-hot heart of the nova’s flare,
And we’ll marry there.

And you’ll know what it is to be utter nothing
When the all that you grasp is a wisp of light
That the dead god threw to the darkness, darkness
Of the bitter joy of your wedding night,
And of Death’s love bite.

Simon MacCulloch lives in London. His poems live in Reach Poetry, The Dawntreader, Spectral Realms, Aphelion, Black Petals, Grim and Gilded, Ekstasis, Pulsebeat Poetry Journal, Ephemeral Elegies, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Emberr, View from Atlantis, Altered Reality, The Sirens Call, The Chamber Magazine, I Become the Beast, Lovecraftiana, Awen and elsewhere.