The World Is A Well Of Tears

At Point Nemo
in the pacific,
you are closer to an astronaut
than to anyone on earth; 

the ocean doesn't know
or care, 

it cannot fathom
anything more lonely
than itself.

Pieces

Sitting frail
in a weathered old chair
she reaches out
and clutches my arm

She tries to explain
how thoughts
are leaving her
memories migrating
to a place beyond reach

I listen patiently
lay my hand on hers
and reassure her with a smile

I do not tell her
how many times
she has repeated
the same fears
or how the gaps
between these exchanges
are decreasing

I simply say
“you’ve sent the memories ahead
to keep them safe
they’re waiting for you
to make you whole
nothing is lost
the pieces will always fit”

Sitting frail
in a weathered old chair
she reaches out
and clutches my arm

Shoots

calloused hands
brush away the rubble
the callous sky made dance 

he finds a lump of hair
blackened to the colour of everything else
bright red flesh
peeling like the petals of the flowers
that used to grow 

finally, a girl's face
green eyes frozen
in contemplation of the sky 

he stares
what will grow here
what will ever grow here
now? 

but what already does

Author’s Biography

Barry Charman is a writer living in North London. He has been published in various magazines, sites and anthologies, including Ambit, Griffith Review, The Ghastling and Aurealis. “Doom Warnings,” his self-published collection of strange and speculative short stories is available in paperback on Amazon and as a PDF at: https://www.blurb.co.uk/b/12079076