I learn more about decay

Than I ever wanted to

The day old body: stiff but still pulpy inside

Week old: starting to fall apart, gums blackened

Fresh: still warm and pliant, you feel you could almost breathe

Life back into it

A year later: elegant forms

A disquieting shade of dirty yellow

And a lean, acute skull gaze

Death lives in us all the time,

Drawing up its plans

And eventually executing them

Even after we are gone

Even after you are gone