They Wait Upon the Feast

Beneath the fertile soil they wait, as quiet as can be,

the burrowing, burial vermin lie in wait for you and me.

(The living, in the days ahead, will mourn a little less,

accustomed to the empty space and cleaning up the mess).

And now within the churning soil

they set upon the feast,

devouring the flesh alike

of humankind and beast.

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