The cold wings of vicious bugs sound like helicopters, the giant trees casting cruel shadows in the pine garden and soft pine straw, the silent grove and shards of bark where she is buried.
Smooth rocks, a far-away green falls and bitterly speckled white and coal-colored, chalk-dust, sandy-shoreline, a fever-dream, a wedding ring, a wedding dress, a gown and churchyard of flowers, roses, marigolds and tiger lily. The meadowlark perched like a strange blue sentinel on a gray tombstone with no name, crying and the sad faces somber like ghastly child-ghosts among the stained-glass windows that have been dead for a very long time.
The battalions of soldier-flies invading and laying orange eggs, the pale and pallid skin is milky, my garbage bag funeral, a hot black shroud reflecting the refreshing cold sunlight, sweaty within and soundless like a bird, a torso, a blank face with a blank sadness, the drowning river playfully breathing and whispering sweet lullabies to the fat bronze-fish and lost emerald-colored marble hidden there between two ancient rocks.
Sunshine, my remains open like an orchid during a rain shower, the ground gives birth, the Georgia red and chocolate dirt, the brittle ribs cracking and unveiling a dark tunnel to some great beast. Gut-shot holes and tiny volcanoes, gentle fingers, berserk beetles and botflies swim in the bloat, tongue protruding, the dried and sticky inside-lava is like hurtful syrup, a crude painting in still-life, my blood smells like a sweet and unknown perfume, a small demon chews on my face as an angel caresses my copse of golden hair, the classical beauty and corners of my mouth, a balmy breeze, pretty eyes, doll eyes, prettier than Heaven, open and illume, glimmering and scintillating like sparkles of the first light, a cross necklace, picture-perfect and slumbering like a newborn Christ.