I died.
They buried me.
Bugs crawled over my casket,
looking for a way to test it.
Eventually slugs eroded a way in,
water followed without a fin.
The air in my casket was stale,
smelling faintly of ale, my last drink.
A perfect incubator for bacteria,
a cafeteria of human waste.
The little devils flew into hysteria.
Once they got a taste.
My body turned to yeast,
Bloating never ceased.
Foul gas was released,
that could not break out.
Eventually, it blew the top,
of my casket off, raising a bump.
Eons flew by like the leaves in the wind,
they came, found the bump, and looked in.
Suddenly, I saw a bright light.
Hadn't seen something like that,
for a long, dark night.
They were so ugly I had to laugh.
I laughed so hard I burst my heart.
I died.
They buried me.
There I Am!
More Poems
My Place
Read War's End, the
Novel
Copyright
2008 © Ronald W. Hull
9/27/08