His cheeks are shrunken,
skin is yellow
like paper left out
too long in the sun.
Flies buzz about his head
but, to him, they’re no distraction.
He’s someone you once knew
but not in this current state,
not when the veneer of life’s
been scraped away
and death is naked underneath.
His eyes are now older than the life he lived.
Yet they can still find you in the dark.
John Grey
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Stand, Washington Square Review and Rathalla Review. Latest books, Covert, Memory Outside the Head, and Guest of Myself are available through reputable retailers. Work upcoming in the McNeese Review, Santa Fe Literary Review and Open Ceilings.