dead girl

the dead girl is dead

i look at her from time to time

in the small money jar on my desk i keep aside

for laundry, once a week, sheets every other week though with the cats

i should be more diligent; the corpse does not take up much room; it is a flat

skin shell husk dry corn leaves bending i wonder

why i keep her around at all

she makes me uneasy but i can’t really bear to throw her out entirely

but sometimes in the mornings, i wake up

i see she has moved zombie like, stares at me through the glass jar window of her world

with her face in a scream

“i had to commit suicide” i tell her. “you had to die. i had to die. ”

i just don’t know what the after death rites are. a burial. a cremation.

something. yes something.

we need rituals to stay sane.

we need rituals to make meaning.

what is a witch without the layer of ritual in every spell?

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3 Responses to dead girl

  1. I just came across your writing. I must say I feel a certain energy connection with you. Strange, but I like your poetry and writing. I can easily digest them


    • Kshyama says:

      Writing is interesting as a practice as it often captures or crystalizes a moment in time. It is interesting to me to read that you felt a connection to me – or at least, the me that wrote the piece đŸ™‚ I would say, for me, it’s interesting for me as a writer to see how or why people happen to connect to older pieces of mine.

      Thank you for reading.


  2. Pingback: The Summoning | Kshyama's Attic

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