Dig Me Up

There’s nothing left. You’ve cast your stones.

So dig me up, them skeleton bones.

The autopsy will show a cratered chest.

Where atomic enmity blasted your nuclear mess.

Jerk up my frame as you grasp my vertebra.

Like the torturous onslaught that tossed me away.

Smile, as you squeeze my scaffolding tightly.

Laugh, as my fabric turns to dust. So unsightly.

But not to fret. You’ve killed me before.

When I refused to partake in your precipitous war.

And after you’ve bludgeoned my oft cracked skull.

You’ll remember my pleas as you ravage my hull.

Then when you realize you’re being watched by the throng.

You’ll cringe when you realize they’ve watched all along.

Keep your noose so taut around my fractured throat.

Until I fade and you understand the words I wrote.

While your impulsive excavation feels so brash.

You’ll know it’s too late when I’ve turned to ash.

The moment you’re comforted and it feels so nice.

You’ll remember my pain. It will sting like ice.