During a pandemic of gloom, a star shines capriciously,
and for most people, the sun will one day fail to rise;
but for you, that day comes often as you walk on glass
fragments, rivulets of blood milking your soul—a pool
of poison gripping your ankles. Desiccated down to hollow
bones, your fluids find new residence in a familiar void,
and a parchedness complements an insatiable hunger,
as you’re more and more willing to drink the poison.
I had a dream that
we climbed lighthouses
to gaze upon fields full
of sunflowers, the fringes
of their petals glistening
under a setting crimson sun.
Realizing the very veracity
keeping us apart, lies in an
inability to dream again.
My mind falls numb
before my body ceases to jitter,
and I often dream, very briefly, that
I’m treading every line between
the ethereal and the corporeal,
searching for a crossing,
to scream at the deities
governing this world,
as well as myself,
for living in it.
Delvon T. Mattingly, who also goes by D.T. Mattingly, is a writer from Louisville, Kentucky and a PhD student in epidemiology at the University of Michigan. His short fiction and poetry have appeared or is forthcoming in Maudlin House, Jellyfish Review, Star 82 Review, and elsewhere. He currently lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan with his two cats, Liam and Tsuki. Learn more about his work at http://delvonmattingly.com/
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.