The Country of the Dead by Jared Angira

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The country of the dead

I speak

no answer

I weep

no pity

I watch

no colour

I listen

no sound

the country of the dead

I shout, the echo strikes

the dead rock

I kick, my toe mutilates

on dry stump

I weep, no pity

the country of the dead

I’ve searched the exit

but heard no owls

no parrots, the waves beat afar

on wrecks of ships

the sand stares with me

the country of the dead.