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In The Chamber of Bone & Stone



Hark!  Everything under the sun is dead or dying.
There is no evading the ubiquitous toxicity.  Meet me
in the catacombs, in the Chamber of Bone & Stone,
with a few last flecks of sugar on your tongue,
and be ready to remove your clothes and frolic
in the light of our little lamps.
Let us joust amongst the peaceful shadows!
We shall leave our names in the hidden dust—
legible to any future sufferers—
with the vigor of our comportment.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.