Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Post Mortem

All the way, the phone call shook
Dividing goodbyes into discrete sounds
Slicing all the grounds of coffee evenings
Caffeine reverting to molecules
Mixed with plasma,
Dopamine, norepinephrine
The brain inhaled the cocktail and coughed
Words spilled out in reply
One mass of apologies

It’s easy to say there is still time
To try new equations, new concoctions
Mixtures of old and new melodies
Songs to wear like jackets or shoes
It’s easy to think there is still time
To lose inhibitions in the living room
To find attraction over the smallest things
To bring sentiment back into hands, eyelids
Walks up the hill at night

It’s easy to dissect moments
Into individual tissues and flesh
Tendons and nerves
Scalpel steady hand on the lab bench
It’s easy to dissect sentences
Nouns, pronouns, verbs
Mechanical parts and design
A classroom whiteboard diagram
The skeleton of language

It is easy for silence to outline spaces
It is easy for silence to fill up spaces
It is easy for silence to smother details
When all is said and done
When the corpse is cold
You can cut across it and count the rings
Notations and analysis
Scribbles of your pen
Glancing over dark rims

The call ends before the shock
Humectants in my ocular sockets
Formaldehyde occultists hold me
The stainless bed
Cold sheets
My blood removed.