Requiems in Fallout

Requiems in Fallout 

by Cam M. Roberts
Billie Whitelaw as Mouth in Samuel Beckett's 'Not I'

Billie Whitelaw as Mouth in Samuel Beckett’s ‘Not I’







Spread against the sheets
dark of heavy thoughts lingering
in open wafts –
Pitch shrouds of funeral
veils closing near the torment
of awaking at the brink
shutting of eyelids
on the face
sufficing to see
the convection
blood boil within
the concealed ball;
Pressure cooking
coal to diamond
dust like splitting out
of the cocoon born
to devour the air
as some plume
of beauty
too marvelous
to witness
The millionth cigarette crushed
on crystalline trays
burning through to what is protected
underneath.  Pupil perfect hole
in the glassen marble
singes of craters periphery
the moment smoke clears
from engulfing
the bombs
going off
the lights
going out
the trees
going down
the limbs
laid out like
collected horrors
while the awful smile
spreads its euphemism
thinking to itself
this is one big
Disintegration –  

Insufferable wreckage
of words, into fragmentation hanging
within a formless abattoir now emptied 
of its meaning, a vow of nightmares from
the mausoleum of the mouth, a desolate dwelling 
inhabited by belatedness on a sometimes quiet hill,
if and only if it were a receptacle
ever still. 

Some silences
are absolute in their sovereignty. 



© CMR, 2013

4 thoughts on “Requiems in Fallout

  1. Dark. Moody. Full of clattering teeth and raw emotion. I could smell the dusty ash of smoke from that cigarette.
    Beautifully written. Makes you want to step inside the poem and live there. What a talent.

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