As the stars flee, 
the brisk air streams
through my fetal pose
washing sleep from my eyes
to reveal white skies.

My body lays
in a shallow pore
stained and surrounded
by ocher,
a sanquine scent
in my lungs,
claiming the space
without reason
but with disturbing peace.

Rustic terriers nudge
at my negligent person
in my bit of earth,
I can feel the beasts
gnawing at my heart,
chewing on my bones,
more relentless than
starving wolves.

An effortless affliction
emanates inside—
soon comes the sun's respite,
stars yonder sweep out light,
blanketing the plot of land
in appropriate sable.

From creature to cadaver
I am no more,
and in a lone grave,
where I would reside,
I wailed
for kind spades and shovels
to stumble upon me.

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