Her Decayed Love
after kicking her crazy
he stood over her, picked up
a towel and reshined
his combat boots while she
sobbed on the floor,
curled fetally
he sneered at her
pain, walking out through
the door, and imagined
her out on the bend of
a path, loathesome carrion
on a bed of rocks,
legs raised like
the once-lustful woman
she was, belly spread open,
ripe with exhalations
he smiled at the thought
of her as a rotting
heap, as if to bring it all
to a boil and send her
back to nature
through the flies humming
on her putrid belly,
larvae in black battalions
spread like a heavy
liquid along the tatters
of her flesh
in her tear-stained face
were the fears of
all the years she’d been
with him and she waited
til he was gone to check
her wounds, her bruised body
covered with black
shoe-polish, her mind
humming a strange music
like of running water
and wind, or of grain in
a winnow, rhythmically shaken
and tossed
she knew that one day
she’d go beneath the grass
and flowers to mold
with the earth which would
preserve her form
and the real essence
of her decayed love and
endurance and only then
would she be
the queen of all grace
–Jo 2008
