Sunrise at Waverley

by Anastasia Kalos

She sleeps,
beneath the closely packed earth.
Oblivious to the salted air,
sonorous crests and troughs,
that reshape each crag and hollow,
eons that hark back to the primordial,
currents and suspended microbes.

She rests,
as the once polished coffin fragments,
along with flesh, cloth and bone.
Only her hair remains,
the silvery shroud,
that encases, guards and embraces,
as the codified testament,
to the dance,
of survival.
Down to first principles,
the DNA,
the infinitesimal blueprint.

She dreams.


2 thoughts on “Sunrise at Waverley

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