Eye sockets picked of tender flesh
by badger, fox, and blackbird,
head and angled body settle
in a dell purpose built
for the final dissipation.
Shade of oak, breeze-gentled grass
caress the body released from care
by a last violent act, brain cooled,
synaptic firings dwindled, last thoughts
of a short life spun out to eternity.
Blood gathers in its lower reaches
seeking exit, escape into the soil,
skin, hair and nails, organs offered
to the earth and air will
join both at their leisure,
break down and arrive at their
terminus, to find new being in
wind-rattled gorse, wildflowers,
rain-speckled weeds and nettles,
and live again, thoughtless,
dreamless.
John Kenny is a writer and editor from Dublin, working as a creative writing course facilitator for the Irish Writers Centre. His short fiction has been published in Uncertainties, Revival, The Galway Review and many other venues. His poetry has featured in StepAway, Smashing Times and Every Day Poets.