I've seen my pale limbs
mummified in infernal fridges
wax paper, foil and plastic wrap
hold fast their hinges
I've seen my face in shadowed lines
in a six-foot pool of ashes
I've seen my kidneys
huddled next to the spleen of a
sixty year old priest
so come back down...
we have graves
in the dirt
so come back down
so, no?
I've seen my veins strain to be seen
in plastinate noblesse
Das Kapital continues on
well after cell death
I've seen my hair coiled in the grass
of a ditch in Strathcona County
I've seen the oily underpass
where the third search party
found me
so come back down...
we have graves
in the dirt
so come back down
so, no?
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