Poem #1 (too late)

too late


as i lay
regretlessly wheezing
i hear i feel
the soft slow susurration
of my sacred earth
beating breathing... living
beckoning me to return
to that pre-manly form
burnt to burnt
barren to barren
there i still lay
eager to become clay
to give back to
that world
from which
i
took so much

j dicks jnr