Disremembered

-Disremembered-
by Keaton Foster



A head
To whom
It belongs
Is dead
An arm
Left
To be exact
Severed
Clean
Precise the cut
Another limb
Right the leg
It appears
To have been
Brutally ripped
From the seam
An additional arm
Opposite
Of the first
Bitten
There are
Teeth marks
How animalistic
Final the appendage
Another leg
All that’s left
Clearly chopped
Clean off
The blade
Must have been
Quite sharp
Finally
There
Nude is the torso
Laying in the field
It’s a man
Oh thy God above
What could
Have he done
Is this your bidding
Or lack thereof
This man’s heart
Is missing
Not cut
But torn
Out of his chest
I fear that it was
When he was alive
Regardless
Of how much
I look for it
Such a heart
Cannot be found
Within the body
Upon the ground
No blood is present
Somewhere
Someplace else
This has happened
He was dragged here
Scattered about
No rhyme
Nor reason
Just roughly placed
The head
Grossly
Is it disfigured
Unidentifiable to all
Upward it is facing
Eyes wide open
Tongue sticking out
Mocking Heaven
The intention
As if to be saying
See me God
Just as I see you
Even in death
Neither
Wants anything
To do with the other
Certainly
Whomever did this
Such a twisted thing
Must live in a state
Of absolute madness
Epic indeed
Was the death
Of this man
Cut
Ripped
Bitten
Chopped
And torn to bits
Disremembered
He’ll always be
No hands
Are around
No prints
To be found
No way of knowing
Or understanding
Who he was
And why he
Faced such an end
Will remain
A mystery
Only I
And the killer
Know of this location
And we are not one
And the same
I myself could never
Under any circumstance
Hurt a single soul
Simply put
I am just not that way
Despite
All that has been
And all that has happened
I have not the nerve
Nor the gut for such things
Alone
I stumbled across him
First it was the smell
Then it was the flesh
The further I walked
The more I did find
I wish I could unsee
What I’ve seen
But I cannot
Disremembered
With all the care
I can dare muster
I dig a hole
In the middle
Between the pieces
It’s deep and wide
Its takes me time
But unlike him
Time
Is what I have
Most of all
When I’m done
My hands
Are numb
Blistered
And bleeding
Callouses
Will no doubt
Be forthcoming
I drag each piece
And place it
In the forgiving ground
I do my best
To make him complete
An organized version
Of who he once was
After I’m done
I pile in the dirt
Down upon all
That has been
As I work
As I complete
My labor of decency
I say
A dozen prayers
For him
And just one for me
I whisper an amen
And cry a single tear
That’s all that I’ve got
Methodically
I begin to place
Sticks and twigs
Upon the grave
Not as an effort
To indicate it
But rather
In an effort
To conceal it
I don’t want anyone
To ever know
That he is there
Disremembered
Sure
I want justice
But such justice
Comes at a price
And I don’t
Presently wish
To pay for it
Disremembered
For this man
It’s a place
A state
And condition
That clearly
Unlike him
I’ll have to live with
Disremembered…


Disremembered
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2015.