Self-Portrait as Compost
Beneath the surface find warmth,
the fruit of decay and mastication,
of layered mixes and intermingled
juices. Disintegrated or whole,
still I strive to speak. Bits of me
meld, to be absorbed slowly; I
process and am processed: here,
within the pepper bush’s deep red
berries, there among the dianthus.
Scattered, deliberately placed,
having been, I shall emerge again,
forever changed, limitless, renewed.
* * *
“Self-Portrait as Compost” was first published in Issue 125 of Right Hand Pointing. Thank you to editors Dale Wisely, Laura M. Kaminski, F. John Sharp and José Angel Araguz for taking this piece.
O at the Edges 
Reblogged this on Prairiepomes.
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Thank you for reblogging, Anna Marie!
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Ever becoming … ever returning (or is it just recycling?)
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I like to think that we’re all recycling.
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Love
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Thank you, Wren!
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A beautifully colourful carousel of life’s merry-go-round.
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Round and round, Ivor. Round and round!
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