A gangrenous rash of grass clings

to desert skin.
The dying star drums a pulsing light,

beating

rhythms through the earth on wings
of wilted glass

and the last voice we hear is an angry

giant’s whisper
echo through the fields. We throw

our final thoughts

to nature’s green wit and bite
our tongues as the ripe

flesh of a million years is peeled away.

The sky’s
flickering screen throws peals

of dazed laughter

across the world before going
black. Fire

smoulders at the heart of the earth.

A fiery
serpent strikes a match.

Copyright © 2008, David Jalajel

Image Credit: SOHO (ESA & NASA)

David Jalajel is originally from Baltimore, Maryland and a graduate of Morgan State University. His poetry has recenty appeared in Amaze: the Cinquain Journal, Forgotten Ground Regained and The Ghazal Page.