| Looking Straight Ahead In Gross Lab Death is lying all around As students hover with their tools They slice through fast, and peel back slow The timid ones are simply fools We found our body in the lab Lying on a thin steel bed Wrapped in cloth and plastic shrouds In time we’ll cut her, foot through head Her fat is soft without excess Her disconcerting rear is wide From laying pressed on tabletops Ever since the day she died So far her muscles have been found Each one looking like the book-- Of what she thought or might have cared We scarcely think as we look We look and probe and pull and cut Not glancing at her opened eyes For fear that what the atlas hides Is thinly veiled by death’s disguise Home Back to Poems |
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