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Maledictus Requiescat
Oh may your casket smother you because
You won’t be buried dead. And may you wake
In ground-chill dark, 6 feet below, mistake
Your ability to free yourself, sores
Sprouting from your fingertips as you try
To pry, to claw, to push your panicked way
Out of your prescribed resting place. I pray
And will that you won’t drop dead too fast. I
Will that you suffer. I will your breath to
Come in hard-laboured oxygen-starved waves:
Short and incomplete. I want all the graves
Around to shudder as you suck the few
Final molecules of breathable air
Into your lungs, alone, alone, down there.
Juleigh Howard Hobson is a formalist poet, essayist and short fiction writer. A former finalist for The Morton Marr Prize, she has had poems nominated for both the Pushcart and the Best of the Net Award. Her poetry has appeared or shall appear in Mobius, The Lyric, The Raintown Review, Candelabrum, Poem Revised (Marion Street Press), Return of The Raven (HorrorBound) and scores of other venues. Her chapbook, Sommer And Other Poems, was published by RavensHalla Arts, who will be publishing her forthcoming chapbook, The Cycle of Nine, later on this year.
qarrtsiluni 