There Were Others

There were others -
becloaked in moss and tree
I knew they were
but not where
Not what
I saw their leavings
and feasted upon them
Knees planted in the duff
offering my soul
to the forest
For I was a foreigner
standing at the meadow
Its depth descended in waves
of light and dark before me
And I felt,
there were others
Glassy-winged insects
landing upon my flesh
not to sting, but to eat
A putrid wallow,
surrounded by prints
The footfalls of the
beast were here,
preceding me
Any notion
mine might be the last
was vanity