Skull and Crossbones

I feel like I was born
in a biome,
Neither desert or bayou;
Dry Hot Humid, Cold
Pulled, stretched, wrenched
As prey to carrion,
Weather picking at flesh,
The elements slowly
Whitening my bones,
Till all that’s left
Is a pirate emblem:
Skull and crossbones.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

Probably not a consideration back when you posted this, but now I'm reading this as a poem to show the seemingly lifeless scenes being recorded across the globe . . . beaches with no footprints, Golden Gate bridge with no cars, markets with no shoppers nor goods, etc. Our bones have been picked clean & now we're learning to cope with this new normal (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Maxwell Ryder]

I survived. And hopefully am stronger for it. Did you, Barley Girl?

[Coyote Poetry]

The poem took me back to Death Valley, California. In my Army days. We trained in the hot desert. I liked the words "Skull and crossbones". I liked the poem. A ancient feel to the words and thank you Maxwell for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[Maxwell Ryder]

Wow Death 💀 Valley! That sounds brutal. How long ago are we talking? Cheers, Coyote!

[Coyote Poetry]

In the seventies, eighties and the nineties.