Carrion Bouquet

By Maddie Cincala 

1.

Some days I just want to sink into the ground; 
let the dirt embrace me in the darkness 
and welcome me home. I’ll breathe in  
its earthy fragrance and give up my body. 
I’ll take my last breath and embrace  
a silence that only nature can provide. 
My rotting skin will give birth  
to a bounty of life as I surrender 
to the insects and inflorescence, 
slowly eating me away. 
My muscles will atrophy, 
relaxing tense tendons and letting 
ligaments leave the bones as 
the years of tension release into the earth. 
My bones will be scaffolding  
to fledgling roots to cling to 
as they bore through my carcass, 
embracing me at my core. 
My body, decomposing, 
will finally have a purpose. 


2. 

I want to give myself to a new life, 
repaying the debt of my existence. 
I want the dandelions to sprout  
from my lungs; the very ones 
that blew away wishes on 
the puffball seeds of a weed 
I always thought was so beautiful. 
I want the daisies to sprout 
from my hands; the very ones 
that plucked away delicate petals 
in hopes of fledgling love.  
I want the snapdragons to sprout 
from my eyes, the very ones  
whose fire has been long extinguished. 
I want the wildflowers to sprout 
from the remainder of my body, 
feeding the flowers too often overlooked. 
I want to become a carrion bouquet, 
to turn myself into something beautiful.