Last Rites
a celebration
Salt the ground around her grave.
Ever fertile, never caring.
Still the soil to simply save the earth from further bearing.
Long ago, decay took hold.
Mushrooms grew within her marrow.
Burn the bones to starve the mold, and seal them in a barrow.
Hush her name upon your lips.
Specters vainly seek citation.
Malice ever after drips with…
