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| photos&poem Jessica Bozek (c) 2006 | |||||||
A PRIMER FOR BOTANICAL AUTOPSY When the wind has unwebbed, the barnside travesties may begin. Dress the part & remain firm in your belief that a vital spring will go slack & you won't be able to latch her inside of you, though someone somewhere will be trying to sell a loosened sole on the idea. Sit the visiting bereaved on stumps, within the theater, but at a distance amenable to the disturbances of doctors, interns. Consider that galloned views are easier to market in fashionable quarters. Blow them out to stark. * * Open along her glossy-leaved (left) side. The verdant tearing without stakes. * * Philodendron the spectators' songs along the leaning window's frame. The mullions branching into solemn cathedral points will clear your head. * * Record your findings geographically. City plants remnant in oxygen deep in the bones. Diffenbachia, likely 1999. Fossilized herbitage, city-green (yellow with fumes) the meat, the betrayer. What she radiated, walked pointedly & ordered. A thin layer at the outside, speckled wildflower. * * Having once wanted to be a lawyer & accuse people of crimes of omission, respect the impulse to absent, to subtle, to leave hidden hardy alone. * * Observe the change in exposed cross- sections. What of letters, paper-soft & blurred blue? The residue of postage stamp & envelope lick? The wrist bent so often, the hair tucked in mannered agitation? Will we find such crinkled evidence amidst other marrow? * * Feel the empty preserving fluid bottles in clumsy rolling clinks. Dance under scrubs. The sky will threaten to postpone further examination until tomorrow & scurry the interns, with instruments, from altar to cabinet. * * Set the bone-stutters in velvet-lined boxes above index card explanations of origin, destination. * * Return to the operation grounds, the learning stand, early the next morning, before the sun moves up from behind the trees, newly ordered by the chief pathologist. * * With string, secure the visitors' suspicions that the operators are simulacra of the very bodies they examine. Money will follow, for everyone loves a tribute to her deceased. & one so fitting! * * Shudder as the animals, slowed to tail, push out their sounds. |
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