Poetry for the Eschaton
I Am Dead. Won’t You Join Me?
by Grant Schreiber
It is sometime between now and then.
It is Spring and I haven’t fully recovered from that fall I took
on the ice two months ago.
Doctors demand cash up front and cash is
hard to come by since Things Got Worse.
I am dreaming of chocolate which hasn’t
been available for awhile. I am hobbling and worrying about my knee
and not paying attention to the people in the
Food Riot, the fourth one since New Year.
The warning shot falls just over the heads
of the crowd and hits on the left side, just
below the heart. It isn’t safe anymore to
carry identification on you as the
Dying State can use it to punish your family.
I join several others in an unmarked grave
just on the other side of town where the poor
people used to live. The soil turns black and
rich and becomes a field of flowers.
It is sometime between now and then.
It is Summer and water is hard to find
despite being so close to the lake.
Something about the algae bloom
can’t be filtered or boiled out and bleach
is also hard to find.
It is too hot to think about anything.
I have to sit down, just for a bit, under
the shade of a dead tree and catch my
breath. I never stand back up.
Flies are there within two minutes,
exploring my open mouth and visiting
my sinus cavity. Birds pluck my hair
and beard to reinforce their nests,
a lucky crow takes my eyes, the empty
sockets a further invitation to explore.
I rot quickly in the heat.
It is sometime between now and then.
It is Autumn and leaves of the trees never
appeared to fall. I have finally lost all that
weight I gained as an American consumer.
I’m thin and trim at last and close to death
from starvation. My thoughts are
muddled, hallucinatory, and infrequent.
I’m losing my hair my teeth my sight
my hearing. In scrambling for food
I cut my hand and die of tetanus a few
days later. The exact cause hardly matters.
My starved body is a feast for other
creatures and they use it well going so far to
crack the nutshell of the skull to eat the
brain. Good for something at last.
It is sometime between now and then.
It is Winter and I no longer care if
I live or die. I leave shelter for some half
forgotten reason and am gripped by cold.
And suddenly I am cold no longer.
I feel so hot I take off my coat and
sweater. I drop my hat and gloves.
It is a miracle! I have found a hot spot
to soak into my skin.
My body is not discovered until after
the thaw. The people are worried a bear
must be in the area but it is mice and birds
and snow and ice that have mauled my
corpse and disfigured me so thoroughly.
It is sometime between now and then.
In whatever season I go, let me be. Leave
my body to have one final use before you
join me with all the other extinct animals.
Found on
http://guymcpherson.com/2015/08/i-am-dead-wont-you-join-me/
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