Poem: A Dead Woman is Blogging

A

dead

woman

is blogging

and that dead

woman is me.

Scribbled

by her hand, not

yet buried in the sand.

She died from the burn of

candlelight

She died from the odd cold sliver of

the first moonlight.

And when God meshed her up

with an afterlife

she said

No, no more...enough now!

A dead woman is blogging

and that dead woman is

me.

Who waited in her bed

the wait of the dead,

who once was fashioned from clay

and now she loathes

every terrifying day.

She sat in her chair, laughing

as she fell slowly, dropping and dying

And as she died, she was still smiling

have you heard of the ridiculous thing.

Now,

as she

cries

on a

bed

of nails

where

she

patiently

lies

where

will

she

go

where will she go.

A dead woman is

blogging and

that dead

woman

is me.

- susan abraham -