Dissection notes: first day

Wrapped in black plastic, a gift

to science waits in the cold laboratory.

Your pupils, moon-round and flat,

reflect my face when I unzip

your body. Thick, damp hair flows

across twin scars on your chest,

suggesting cancer. From the clefts

below your hips, two tattooed roses

bloom in the silence between us.

As fear and sacredness touch,

my scalpel hovers over your skin.

The living resort to action when

words don’t offer anything

much by way of introduction.

Image courtesy of iStock.com/ilbusca