lying on a cold, hard plastic tray
arms out, webbed hands spread
in oh-well surrender
eyes that say go ahead
I’m somewhere else
in a formaldehyde dream
open this slippery belly-coat of skin
I’m dead to the obscenity of
your scalpel and pins
feel free to pick
each private pocket
with your learning fingers
observe the color of my organs
so artfully arranged
remove the locket of my heart
slice it open and observe nothing
of my courting days
by the sacred pond
these private, earthly things
once treasured
cannot be stolen by your gaze
