Cadaver

I felt the wings of the flies
the vibrating bits of film
on the backs of opportunists
their master cracked the whip
over their heads in thunder
as I made my bed in mud
their dance over my flesh
were constant tides in the
coming and going and taking
when the sun had rose and
set again, I laid still
slowly I was carried away
by all the tiny feet and fangs
by all the things that cry
out in the dark and shadows
the young flies tore through
my skin with their ravenous
appetites and thirst for blood
the beetles and grubs feasted
on my once hidden organs
now exposed and dispersing
the canine teeth and stabbing
beaks were invited all too soon
and broken bits I became
my left hand dragged off
after being severed at the wrist
every joint became a challenge
for gnawing teeth and
crushing, starving jaws
once my tissues had been
taken and my bones were
yellow hollowed out husks
the sun stole the color of
my lingering hair and
bleached my bones dry
and rains and trees conspired
in taking the memory of me
by splattering my leftovers
with mud and blanketing
them with fallen leaves