It's Still Life

Bones On The Beach

Those bleached white bones there,
I can’t help wonder what you were
before you became unrecognisable.
What curdling horror took you.
What oxygen clotting grip closed
on your taut sinewed neck.
Did the air smell like metal, and
was terror in the pit of your voices
that interrogated your choices –
to flee this way or that way, and
was the sky blue, or did you squint
and blink while rain fell on your face.

I can’t myself: What were you before
the sun bleached your bones like teeth.

Written for Miz Quickly’s 19 August photo prompt: include smell, colour, shape. Image is from Miz Quickly’s site.  Shared with @Miz_Quickly and @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter   ©Misky 2021