She is completely found in that moment as her flesh is being ripped apart. When the maggots have chewed their way in deep, the rotten bits easily consumed and made into a wretched writhing mess. Holding her hands out and above, she closes her eyes and opens her throat, gurgling laughter spilling forth. It’s a rancid scent the flies can’t ignore and within moments she’s wrapped in a cocoon of cacophonous wingbeats. And like tears, the worms drop from her eyes. It will only be a matter of time before she is consumed, the last echoing notes of music fading in the empty chamber, a bow, and her dance finally over.
©️tara caribou – 2018
This I wrote in response to the Spiral Artist’s poem by the same name. I hope he doesn’t mind….