the blackened seaweed

The blackened seaweed has entered the room, the
conversation, the interjections and pauses. Refusing to
               sit, refusing
to say why it
              died its macabre death in this room and
not in any other. There

are other rooms lamenting your absence, not mine
which is done done
              with blackness
with the hint of 
             the dreary, the dark, the gray as much
as the black. Seek

then the heartchamber that is not mindful of gray
not mindful of the ray of black that sneaks out from
             the sun, guilty
almost of subver
             ting day as well as its connotation, and
corroding it too. Must

the corrosion wail its unseemliness along with 
the sorry, unreputed state of its wantonness, its
             gray, its soot
oozing subversive
             black off radiance, robbing daylight in
daylight?
This entry was posted in Poetry.

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