decaying on the bone
walking down the street
cells shedding shower
the earth in my wake
aging is like dissolving in
the acid of time
while still alive
the black shirt now speckled
with white detritus that rains
down from the decomposing
body readying itself for
the worms eating the earth
until they shit out a new planet
my cells mixed with the rats
with the leaves with the trash
with the roses and peonies
all composted
all mulching the garden
that will shortly be
my home until
the planet collides with
some space debris or
nuclear holocaust
or just our heavy presence
turns the spade in the garden
flowers blossom bees buzz
worms wind wordless
burrowing deeper into history
what is time but death conscious
of itself?