William Littlejohn-Oram

Postlude

I’m not afraid of death, but imagining
my body alone in the empty dark,
lost to some bloated silence,

except for the feathery footsteps
of the pill bug, somehow,
working her way inside my container.

I’ve been told to ignore my fears,
but the 5am news flashes the scene
of my neighbor, seventeen years old. He drove

headfirst into the large oak tree on that bend
in the road, just above our houses,
where I’ve often seen robins on telephone wires.

I did not hear the accident, but now, outside, hear
the sirens and the boy’s homemade EDM mixes
from his car, rising off the stereo like steam off a grill.

And I imagine, where his tires tore up the dirt,
the sound of earthworms, wriggling in the earth.

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William Littlejohn-Oram received a degree in Fiction from the University of Houston and is currently pursuing a Master’s degree in Poetry from Texas Tech University. He can currently be found in Lubbock, TX, wearing brightly colored shoes. His work is forthcoming in Inkwell Journal, Amethyst Review, Eunoia Review and Ancient Paths.