Saturday 22 June 2013

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