Them Dry Bones

Them Dry Bones

 

Skull fragments, teeth,

Finger bones and ribs.

Strew in a mix of mud

And worms and such.

Femurs at the end,

Ear bones at the top.

Spinal columns sit

In the middle.

A six foot long body,

And a wooden box.

Covered in dirt,

And decomposing skin.

Bits of hair and flesh,

Clung to the dry bones,

Flaking off with the movements

Of the shovels.

Soon it all falls apart,

We stand as the dirt

Stops falling. Then you

Reach down.

Plucking the pearls

From the bare neck.

Up in the light

They look beautiful.

Though they were

Covered in dirt,

They still look

Expensive.

Soon the lights

Cut out and we’re

Thrown into darkness.

Oh dear me.

Soon those dry bones

Stand up out of the hole.

Tears reach our eyes,

As Them Dry Bones

Scream. I fall down

Yelling as you run.

Them Dry Bones

Make quick work

Of us, and soon,

We take our place

In the hole, next

To Them Dry Bones.

Against the warnings,

The curses and

The stories, the pearls

Were just too much

So we wait for

The next fools to

Come after the

Pure white pearls,

And the chance

To say they robbed

Them Dry Bones.