This bunker's dug deep
And I'm here alone
Searching for answers.
My stock is depleted.
The empty walls maintain their silence
As whatever they had to say
Resounded some time ago.
The overhead fluorescence
Shimmers to stay awake.
A mute box of bullets
Occupies one corner;
A barrel of spent shells
Inhabits another.
Hollow clips adorn the shelves.
My weapons—
Nowhere to be found.
The frigid air tastes of charcoal,
Rekindling memories
Of when the fire once burned.
Now it's snuffed,
Like the filtered corpses of cigarettes
That litter this concrete floor.
1 comments:
For some reason this piece, especially the last stanza, reminds me of what it's like to be in jail. Being dug deep, alone, where empty walls maintain silence, frigid air, rekindling memories, and of a fire that once burned (but now snuffed)...these can all be related what it's like to be there. Dug deep in the consequences of one's actions, being alone, and silent walls are self-explanatory. Frigid air and rekindling memories can also be taken literally, because if you spend any time in jail you do a lot of shivering (you get a bed sheet & thin wool blanket, and that's it) and thinking of what used to (or could) be. The line about fire makes me think about the fire within people that can be so easily snuffed if too much time is spent locked up like an animal.
I really like the "filtered corpses of cigarettes" line also.
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