Gaea

Will she shrug us from her skin?
We are fleas who gnaw and defecate in the open wounds.
We are insects who crawl the surface of her body,
Oozing toxins.

Our appetites are so voracious that the bites
Coalesce into gaping sores.
Our trails, packed hard, mark her skin with lines.
We fly about her body,
Unconcerned about her certain death.

Her salty blue blood is poisoned
But we continue to drink.
Her breath, so thick it is visible,
Carries the stench of decay.

This is our Mother.
She will give to us forever, everything.
We gnaw and suck and bloat,
Ignoring the fear that seeps into our guts
When we hear the rattle of death in her throat.

Copyright, 2008, Pat Grauer