[the poetry billboard] - 'Slow Death' by Uma Asopa
 
 
Slow Death

Uma Asopa

Copper pods are dying
Loggers need not
be impatient
with trees
to cut them
or burn on a funeral pyre.

Veins of brown
like garlands
embracing necks,
ran through
their green canopy.
No, it wasn’t flowers
but leaves and small branches
shriveled, discolored,
and decayed.
Death in patches
looking golden
from a distance.

Some were bare
burnt out, skeletal black.
their spidery arms
outstretched
against a grey sky.
Eager to devour
the clouds;
they looked like witches
in a trance.

There is a chance,
the earth below
may become moist;
sky may bring rains.
The sections of death
in bits and pieces
may live again.

Even if they don’t,
They deserve
to be left alone
in their death.
They never needed
a cremation
to seal their end.

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