Lucy: autopsy

cold fluorescent tubing
bleaches
already frail skin
and marks flimsy proof of existence
on a cold metal slab

there is no emotion here
only the story
hidden behind cold veins
& singed nerve endings

skipping like a scratched CD

spread eagle on the gurney
unforgiving instruments
peel back years of swollen gums,
worn out secrets
and half-assed lies

here is the place we drown in the truth

belly up
with a ghost of a smile
on indigo lips
ignorant to the fingers
teasing the flaws
and 'tsk, tsk little one
you've gone too far this time'

but crawling along
some sort of impulse
[just short of the synapse]
lies the problem-

she was too young
to suffer an adult's pain

.
.
.


and dreamt that she was drowning