(a found poem, from a lecture on Medicolegal Death Investigations.)
People think of death as cooling--
that unclaimed people, fixed or unfixed,
will cease to occur at standard room temperature.
Death is a process of fermentation and care must be taken
that matches not be used indiscriminately.
(most of you will never see this.)
Most of you will never see this
because you are hanging out your wash on the rooftops
while overhead a million small flames spiral in a cobalt sky.
Wowzers, what a great poem. I SO LOVE the final stanza.
ReplyDeleteSherry, that is very kind of you. I had to do SOMETHING during that gruesome lecture and this came out of it.
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