And I Still Have to Do Them

And I Still Have to Do Them

E.R. Skulmoski

The yellow death hangs over me now as
I bury my tulips in the black dirt,
Hoping they survive the winter tired sigh,
Forsaken by the sun, I clasp my hands
And pray, for some kind of resurrection
As I sink deep in my perfumed casket
Buried, and lived in by unwashed linen,
Dreaming dreams and seeing past life visions,
Prophesying on how my life should go,
But winter’s sigh buried me deeper still.
Then sounds of toddling steps raise me from
The dead, peeling my rootbound body out
Onto the ice cold floor, to see the glory
Of mountain piles of dishes in the sink.

---

E.R. Skulmoski
Poet 

Emily is a poet who lives in the Interior of British Columbia with her husband and four children. She homeschools her children and writes poetry and short stories in her spare time. You can follow her on Instagram and read more of her work at https://ofisandwas.substack.com/

Photography by YangShuo