My trunk sank into the mud
while all the moss
came creeping on. These
bones that bleached beneath
the sun splintered
like frost upon the lawn.

And all those hollow hearts
that bled
for an autumn chill,
to get some feeling back
to folded finger tips;
I wish they swelled
for love instead,
but I’m just a lump
forgotten below frozen foliage.

So here I am on display
like a time lapse photo
of a swirling Milky Way,
as all the little worms
do lay
generations of their DNA;
This reticulating orgy
replaced my brain,
but otherwise
it’s all the same.

My jaw ajar,
I watch the sky from afar
turn black and blue,
or gray to gold.
All I do is stare,
beyond sunken sockets,
in a dead man pose
as I decompose.

But oh, what is this?
A pine cone
drops to bury itself
within the pit
of my stomach.
Digested amongst
months of mulch,
a seedling emerges;
Uprooting my limbs,
lifting my vertebrae
upon branches.

And like christmas ornaments,
my frail white bones
in the first glittering frost
of a body farm Winter.
My skull rests beneath branches
like a present,
as a red winged blackbird
picks at my marrow.

I am dead
and have never felt
more part of life,

written on 05/17/2013 by: Matt Kane