I found your bones under the desert’s sands;
Rocked your frigid crib to stir a green soul.
Mouthy vacuous heads led to cracked hands,
Cackled and crowed over the flesh they stole.
The nomad with shale-grit eyes drifts the wind
Here to there, beyond the noise and inside;
Savage memento to the spines they’ve skinned,
A grave with dear trinkets to lie beside.
Skin pushes over limbs to drown you out,
Follicles and remnants of pride tumble;
Reversed a flower from the tomb anew.
They scratch for water after bringing drought,
Crawl, contort, handstand only to stumble,
Slowly tails and fossils also withdrew.