"rot" by LB Waltz

​when i suspect that i am rotting
i decide i ought to check,
nails slipping into sponge that molds
to softness ‘tween my ribs, and— slow--
peel back what fetid flesh
conceals the compost heaped up just-below
 
old organs, here; emotions older
tissues used and damp and torn;
my soiled hands dig until i find
what writhes, worming within the warm
of layers, strata, deadened selves
 
there’s lichen scabs that texturize
my time-worn, fear-bleached bone,
while fairy rings of feedback loop
in endless, nerve-branched loam
 
since nectarous secretions
reek of corpses more than flowers,
i realize i indeed must say: i am mottled with decay
 
but that will soon enrich the way; as fertilizer feeds the weeds, 
growth is growth in my small plot
 
and there is beauty in the rot
 

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LB Waltz (@balmroomdance) has been publishing creative works for over 20 years under various pseudonyms. They enjoy taking walks, biblically accurate depictions of angels, and reading about botanical folklore.

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