Clean-cut cold calculating coroners
measure millimeters (more marked many murders),
building body-boxes by buying birch-wood,
rather rattlingly ready,
with wood working what we willed without words whenever
I ignominiously inched into irateness.
Her hands had hung, her heels had hesitated, her heart had hidden;
now nastily neutralized, nameless, noiseless, neither natural nor normal,
exposed emetically.
Seeing slick sanguinity, sickness surges startlingly:
Blood brings bile.
She sang softly, sorrowed, shuffled, saw, stopped, screamed… suddenly silence.
Alone and artlessly arranged, as
clean-cut cold calculating coroners
measure my sister for her coffin.