Charnel House

i push into loamy earth
that holds a thousand bones.

my fingers wiggle through
centuries
that pile
and hug
and caress
below the epidermis.

life and death
mingling in a great orgy
as ancestors cavort with strangers
and prim echoes of "indecency"
and talk of a savior
are muffled by soil and rock and worm.

what does it matter when we all reduce to chalk and dna?

and what stops the greedy mother
from sucking marrow
and breaking bone into food for the unborn?