He said that I was buried alive
in the flesh that carries me to death –
the filthy pounds of it, peach but stained
with moss and weeds and bird nests.
And that they enfold me in such
dim light that I barely even look alive,
nightingales knocking from side to side.
He said that I tell them to come in
they breathe my air and bite my limbs –
this carcass lay still for the pecking dribs
suffocated by flora that shall take it.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 3:51 PM UTC
He said that I was buried alive
in the flesh that carries me to death –
the filthy pounds of it, peach but stained
with moss and weeds and bird nests.
And that they enfold me in such
dim light that I barely even look alive,
nightingales knocking from side to side.
He said that I tell them to come in
they breathe my air and bite my limbs –
this carcass lay still for the pecking dribs
suffocated by flora that shall take it.
