7 Poems

unseen

no one knows how to wedge the dreams
hanging by a thread of tomorrow
so their hands leave the wrapper
of summum malum;
that same one our dead I.D’s faded our faces.
so no more ashes are left from dying
that’s what grandfather feared for
so he took his death journey early
leaving so many unfinished pages
holding his last breath.

everyone knows who wore it today
as a wrinkle
as a blemish
as a pant inside out.
it was the same color as you
with no teeth to bite the water.
in a symbol as elderly as an omnishambles in this room
be careful what your mask may look like.

Ruddapoet