Soggy Coffin Throne, a poem to drown by

Lucidity Lamb Photography

Soggy Coffin Throne

Quietly considering her own mortality,

She feels salty water rise.

Should she stay sitting,

Half buried by crushed seashells,

Rocks and bones and sand,

Chilly air will be replaced by

The unbreathable reality

Of her soggy coffin throne

As the ocean’s ticking clock

Strikes high tide.

Photo by Berend de Kort on


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