If I died now
Air pulled out
Slipped, because I looked up for too long
Plummeted from a building
Tripped, or fell
and the blood doused the gravel
What would become of me?
It would be like premature sleep
Sleep to rest
For a very, very long time
Maybe I wouldn’t even realise
The state of my body
no longer,
A carcass laden with purple meat and thick bones.
At this point, it could be any meat
A cow’s, a pig’s
Would it taste the same?
If my nose and lips were nowhere to be found
If the fingers were severed from the palm
I would be just another putrid animal
Died by accident
Black wheels on bruised skin.
What a shame!
But would it taste the same?
It’s not a question of cannibalism
Death is as macabre as the Birth of a grimy child
As macabre as the horrible thump of dirt as it is poured
into a deep dark hole
As macabre as macabre can be.
At least flesh is soundless
Digested, liquid and it won’t make noise.
If I died now
Would the grief replenish?
Would tears quench my dessicated cheeks
Cracked and cracked and cracked
Too withered and foul to be beautiful.
Would heavy groans of despair satisfy the silence
Once strangers file out of the dim, desolate
Chalk white room?
“I am sorry. Terribly sorry.”
The hollowness draws back in, except the hot touch of my mother
Older, yet younger
Her skin the pretty colour of life, mine of murky water.
She is angry, she scolds me with her glass eyes.
but there is nothing left to do.
Please
Mama
Shutmeaway
now.