When We Are Gone

Eden Rumsey


Bones lay silent in decorous spread 
Across the springtime moor
On their wildflower bed.

Thrushes in the ribcage
Nest along the spine,
Raising baby songbirds
In lung space and thyme.

Swallowtail chrysalides cling to the skull,
Dormant souls in flux ’til
Ancient instincts pierce the lull.

As above, so below:
Rabbits burrow underneath
And worms tunnel in the dark,
In the damp of the heath.

Watercolor decay paints strokes of rebirth:
Life bleeds into Death
And Death feeds anew the earth.

Eden Rumsey is a senior English major with a Creative Writing Certificate in Fiction at the University of Texas at Austin. She’s pursuing a career in the publishing or newspaper industries as a copy editor. When she’s not busy daydreaming about strange worlds, you can find her communing with the food court grackles or holed up in a dark corner of the library.

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