The Autopsy

Now that I examine you
Cold and flat upon the slab,
Name tag knotted
Around one bruised
Big toe,
I think I see you more clearly
Than I ever could before.
They have scooped out
Honesty and are placing
Your other virtues
In a jar -
For me to take home
Like ashes
Or a souvenir.

I am watching
Your rigour-taut face,
And will keep talking until
It seems you understand.
They unravel
All your thoughts
About me
That you refused to
Give up so freely;
Exposed now
And I ask for them
To be wrapped
Around your head
Like carnival lights.

Cut, hack, snip, snip

All this rubbish,
Arterial, gloops
From you into drains,
I wonder about our bed
And how long the space
Where you lay
Will resemble
The Turin Shroud.
We were
Fit for landfill;
Let this all be
Levitated now by
Psychosomatic,
Ragged birds.

Guts, bile, splat, splat

Reading your entrails
Like tealeaves -
I can even see the time
That I wrote some crap
About how it felt as though
You had excommunicated me,
How I made you listen.
You wear that same glazed
Expression now
As you wore then.
I stand, black autopsy boots,
Wading up to my knees
In the definition
And contours of you.

Skull, cleave, crack, crack

Prising out the
Soft mindfill,
Small slices
Under the microscope
Show it existed as a
Squat in the end
For hapless breeding;
Catholic and undead.
Show all those times
You instructed me
With some patronising
Notion until I limped,
Lamed, bled out
Beside you.

The neon blue
Hospital lights
Radiate opaque
Upon the operating table
And we are nullified by it
Though somehow
Still bound by treaty,
Negotiating
With the dead.
A rainbow had coursed
Across us,
One watched it, awed,
The other
Colour blind.

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Comments

LawOfTheOne | March 19, 2008 - 23:34

interesting. i liked the format, different. the catholic part i enjoyed particularly and the description of the dead as colourblind to the rainbow. the only negative i have personally is that there weren't enough background details of their relationship to achie ve the sombre tone and make the reader feel the love. but, once again you produce a great poem

Doeslittle | March 19, 2008 - 23:48

I can see what you mean, but in a way I like the fact that it avoids details...I had no specific relationship in mind, I wanted it to represent the end. And if I'm totally honest this was inspired about four hours ago after a conversation with my housemate about his eating junk food - I said he was like a Great White and if they cut him open we'd find license plates et al and it got me thinking about autopsies and then broken relationships...so I had no real background to work from...which could be this poem's undoing I suppose!

Doeslittle | March 20, 2008 - 00:10

I was also thinking about a relationship with religion as comparable (very loosely) which may also explain the lack of background...since you mention the Catholic bit.

Ewan | March 20, 2008 - 08:01

Hmmm, sorry Lawman, I disagree. I like the prospect of attempting to fill in my own background. You rightly point out some strengths of this piece of writing, and for me they are sufficient to raise this poem to well above the average anyway.

Doeslittle, or may I call you Does? I'm assuming you're showing, not telling, about this non-specific relationship. And you do it well. Regarding the existence of a particular model for the one in the poem, maybe you made something up? Gosh, a writer using their imagination! I thought we were all supposed to do that. I liked this one, too many phrases,images etc to mention but 'negotiating with the dead' was a favourite.

I think the conceit of dissecting a relationship being similar to dissecting a corpse was clever; goodness knows most people will have waited for a relationship to die before breaking out of it - at least once.

Very good.

Ewan

kim.rooney | March 20, 2008 - 09:23

This is great- although your other poems have hit this site with some force-, I think I like this one the best. Maybe it's because of the change of style. The shorter lines- that I'm partial to myself.

And of course, death and dying, especially in relationship. In my warped way, I warmed to many lines but especially:

You wear that same glazed
Expression now

And yes, you did imagine it all- never occurred to me you might be a 'Silent Witness' pathologist...

Your admission too, in your posting, about its beginning: 'this was inspired about four hours ago' also lays waste any notion that the good must be preceded by a long incubation.

More please.

luigi_pagano | March 20, 2008 - 14:29

A very clever, original and skilfully crafted poem full of rich imagery.
I particularly like the opening stanza.

sunshine | March 20, 2008 - 15:55

I agree that this is successful without detailed reference to the relationship - or maybe because there is an absence of this detail. When we lose someone as a result of their death we can feel so detached even whilst gazing on the empty space in the bed, or musing on the empty space in our lives.

Doeslittle | March 20, 2008 - 18:40

Thanks for all the comments. I did intend it, as Kim and Ewan pointed out, to be an 'autopsy' of a failed relationship. The death and autopsy as metaphors...but still meaning is in the eye of the beholder.

Andrew G Bailey | March 21, 2008 - 21:10

love it super idea great imagery really well executed