Powderflesh

I looked at what resembled

A pile of sticks covered with putty.

How could I empathize

With such a pathetic soul?

It lay with so little so subtle a breath

How could I stand

In pure health and pity?

The powderflesh frame

Was yet to be mine.

 

I kneeled down aside the corpse

And gently slacked the brittle jaw.

So putrid a smell, a noxious stench

Released itself, and death escaped.

In spite of the stench, I inhaled deeply

And exhaled my breath of life

Into the rotting lungs.

Published in: on April 23, 1995 at 3:37 am  Leave a Comment  
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