Closed Casket

I scream a name within a garden 

As its frozen ground pulls me in. 

Tasting wet dirt, clutching dewey grass 

While slipping deeper into the abyss. 

Its flowers tinge and slowly turn to frost 

Casting glitter upon their leaves, 

This name that I call echoes in the air

As a closed casket covers me. 

On a thought that this thudding would thus, subside 

To shake the state of my well-being, 

Its pounding fed to a starving night 

That resided in the country of cedar sleeping 

Harkened by late-hour verbal jousts 

Deafening ignorance rests within each ear 

Passing away with time

The voices heightened climb 

Rumbles lowly in a gasping field. 

I press a worn portrait in my palm 

Clutching it as a home by key, 

A running sweat toward my saintly death 

Dousing light with every scratching breach.