Three Poems

by Natasha Burge

 and the floor has disappeared

it is evening

and the floor has disappeared

as it always does this time of day

red paper moon and fallen clouds

hide the empty bone feeling

but not from me


thick knotted vines

thorns like teeth

soil made ravenous

because it knows

like I do

that everything is hollow

and the birds that return next year

are not the same

as the birds that cloud the sky tonight


the floor is gone

and the gnawed upon

gristle of this world exposed

everything has come loose


teeth baring smiles

skull fragments eons hence

truth in dirt packed crescents

beneath fingernails

there is nothing here

if you know where to look


it doesn’t try to hide itself

when evening comes on

and the floor disappears

and the roots are exposed

and flesh colored hairs

rise up like spider silk

to trace the nothing that is here


shooting stars don’t feel no pain

there was a smear across the sky that day

once the stars had fallen

only it remained


too damn bad about them folks you said

such a shame

a crack in their armor

let in the flames


mission failure

no survivors

but you said

shooting stars don’t feel no pain


that’s how you found me

you told me later

in some back seat or dirt road bar

it cried out to you

the crack in my armor

that something strange


contact lost

distress call unanswered

but you were the only one

who would ever want me like this

so I made myself into a meteor and fanned the flames

and shooting stars don’t feel no pain


such a shame you said watching the sky

such a shame you said after

when you were done

and I lay scattered


and it’s too damn bad about the girl you found

with the cracked armor that let you in

she was such a shame

smeared among the wreckage, ugly and strange

but shooting stars don’t feel no pain


there are people on the stairs

there are people on the stairs

watching me pass


the crack of spindle-necks

the snap of button-black eyes


i think they have already seen

my unkempt creases and darkest folds


my palimpsest hands are flayed open

spliced fine at the nerve

look inside

they are hollow to the bone



i am caught

jostle and stuck

detritus clumps and unfinished steps


the people on the stairs

watching me pass


a tableau vivant with train wreck vision

wallpaper skin and snatching teeth





their looking glass eyes

swallow my reflection

sipping me in

silvered mercury rivulets

drop from their mouths

free fall

darkness abounds


i emerge

dripping and undone

to join them on the stairs

and watch myself pass

Natasha Burge is a writer with ink-stained fingers, a tumbleweed heart, and one foot permanently planted in other worlds. She currently lives and works in Saudi Arabia and Bahrain. Contact her at

One thought on “Three Poems

  1. Shades of Lovecraft !!! Those send a few chills up my spine – unfortunately I read them in the evening and not in the morning – so I will pay for that tonight.

    GREAT work!!

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