A Morbid Meditation

 look down at the pallid           rotten

            flesh

jack-o-lantern in mid-November

 

the skin of the face falling away

            from the cold

            lifeless bone    the worms

in the eye sockets

 

that is you

that was you

 

you’re gone     no more

 

a memory slipping

through the tear ducts

            silent tongue

of flame in the hearts of a few

 

was it worth it?

the stress about money

            for clothes and cars

            and knick-knacks and bobbles

passion            cash

 

the lucky few who can achieve both

all roads end here

            there never was any other destination

 

so

look down at yourself

            the unrecognizable puddle of

sinew and sludge and bone and maggots

 

what would change

            if you had to do it all again?

***

(Cuenca, Ecuador -- January, 2021)

Memento mori, etc. etc. etc.