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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The skull had been opened as you would a coconut To sip the sweet sap. Tsal's blood skips with his fear At the thoughts hitting his head, but his fears are proven fact When he sees a silver spoon in the head, spoon branded "Pierre". Further down the seabed, lies another identical but intact specimen With a matching fork he'd attempted to stick into another bone, Before his last mitochondrion, like its peers, gave up on the machine, Surrendering to fatigue, thirst, and probably a grave wound as shown by marks on the foot bones. Tsal turns to Pezal to share the shock on both their faces It was university all over again, trying to understand this: There was water, there were plants, fertile land in most places, And yet cannibalism was the last act of this great species. Despair from hunger, intoxication, thirst which dominated A race which once ordered water about with pumps and dams, Told the wind where to blow, had command over all ever created, But chose to destroy and not rebuild in their crazy advance. There are many more heads half buried by the mocking wind, Complete with scarred arms and legs, with once plastic clothes Ripped and singed in the hot abrasive vengeful wind, The wind which once was a gentle breeze in which bathed the olives of Rhodes. (c) Nyonglema
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